


Life In Monochrome (AU Yeah August Jazz/Prowl)

by InfiniteOuroboros



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: AU Yeah August 2020, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Body Modification, First Meetings, M/M, One-Shot Collection, Time Travel, all the feels, parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:46:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 25,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25681516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfiniteOuroboros/pseuds/InfiniteOuroboros
Summary: Decided to try my hand at one of these monthly challenges. Wish me luck!And feel all the OTP feels.
Relationships: Jazz/Prowl
Comments: 224
Kudos: 153





	1. Cafe (Coffeeshop AU Part 1 of 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz had the same morning routine for a vorn.  
> Except today. Today that's all about to go out the proverbial window.

Jazz hummed to himself as he made his way into the little corner cafe on the outskirts of Iacon’s Little Praxus. It had been complete coincidence he had even discovered the family owned business. A late night had turned into an even earlier morning and the shop had been the first one he found open that early in the orn. The owner took one look at him and had shoved a warm cube in his chilled servos, free of charge. The energon had been good, but it was the owner’s unexpected kindness that had won him over.

While it was further from from his apartment than he’d typically travel for fuel, Jazz had been going out of his way since that orn to stop by every morning.

Pushing open the door, he gave a jaunty wave to the mech wiping down the tables. The mech threw a friendly wave back and a “Morning Jazz!” his way.

Grinning, he made his way to the front counter. “Hey Blue—.” Jazz stopped dead in his tracks. “Yer not Blue.” Jazz said, frowning at the unfamiliar mech behind the counter.

“No, I’m not,” the black and white mech behind the counter replied, cocking one optic ridge at him. “He’s not here today. What can I get started for you?”

“But Blue’s never off! I’ve been comin’ in every day for nearly a vorn and he’s always been here. What happened, he okay?” Jazz exclaimed, panic entering his voice.

“You must be Jazz.” The mech let out a deep sigh, briefly looking up at the ceiling, before focusing back on the visor in front of him. “Bluestreak mentioned you'd be coming in and thought you might worry when he wasn’t here.”

“Oh…?” Was Jazz's eloquent response.

The mech let out another deep vent. If Jazz’s processor wasn't stalling over the unexpected change to his morning routine, he might’ve heard the exasperation in the other mech’s voice. “I’m Prowl, Bluestreak’s brother.”

“Oh. OH! Yer that brother! The one studyin’ away from home.” The world began to spin again as the momentary panic retreated.

Prowl’s wings shot up. His optics brightening to reflect his surprise. “He told you about me?”

“I’m not yer average customer. But yeah mech, Blue talks about ya all the time! It’s always ‘Prowl this and Prowl tha’. Heck, he told me yer top o’ yer class this vorn. Blue wouldn’t stop talkin’ ‘bout it for orns.”

“Oh.”

Jazz could practically feel the other’s embarrassment across the counter. Feeling bad for putting the mech on the spot, Jazz reached out his servo. “Nice to finally meetcha ya mech. And sorry for freakin’ out on ya there for a klik. I’ve been comin’ here every day for a vorn and it was a bit of shock to see a different pair a wings behind the counter. Don’ know how much yer brother has told ya ‘bout me, but m’ desigination’s Jazz.”

The black and white mech reached out his servo to grasp Jazz’s. “It’s nice to meet you too, Jazz. Blue hasn’t said much about you, sorry. But he did mention you prefer your energon frothed with silver and copper shavings, hot. Is that right?”

The mech quirked a small smile and Jazz felt his spark jump.

“Yeah mech. Tha’s right.” Grinning, Jazz leaned across the counter, delight at finally meeting the elusive Prowl. “Now I gotta know. Is it true ya once hid from yer creator’s in the ceiling b’cause they hid the rust sticks?”

The affronted look on the other’s face was totally worth it. The quivering doorwings? Icing on the oil cake.

“Apparently Bluestreak still hasn’t learned the importance of keeping family business in the family.” Huffing, the Praxian fanned his wings up and out. Turning around, he said over his shoulder pauldron, “I’ll get started on your fuel Jazz. Please take a seat; I’ll have it out to you in a few kliks.”

Jazz knew deep in his spark that this cafe was special from the first orn.

“Hey Prowl! Make yourself a cube too! I got more questions!”

And the new black and white addition might’ve just made it his favorite across all of Cybertron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a loooonnngggg time since I've written any sort of fanfiction. I've always been more of a lurker than a poster but there have been such good stories in the fandom lately...I couldn't resist. With that said, if you see any typos let me know! 
> 
> I *think* I caught them all but I have no idea. 
> 
> I'll try to catch up the prompts over the week. Wish me luck! :)
> 
> Now continued in [Chapter 8](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25681516/chapters/62650036)!


	2. Wings (Royalty AU Part 1 of 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz learns the hard way that even when you're bonded to a Prince long-held prejudices still win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: unwanted body modifications.

Jazz clutched the datapad to his chest armor, helm bowed and visor off. The final design had been approved and the medic was nearly ready.

The problem was—he wasn’t.

“You don’t have to do this. No one will think any less of you,” a soft voice said, breaking the silence of the room.

He shook his head. “You know I have to. If I don’t, mecha will use that against you, us. And the little respect I’ve been able to win will be lost.” He paused, clutching the servo that had been placed on his knee. “And they’ll wonder why you can’t control the foreigner. Our bonding has already caused division. This could lead to civil war.” Jazz spat out. The anger that had been brewing since the proposal had first been made finally bubbling over.

“You know I don’t think that, right?” A firm hand lifted his chin, forcing him to meet the optics of the mech kneeling in front of him. “I don’t care what any of them think. This is an impossible situation, but the only thing I care about is you. I want _you_ to be happy.” A fierce determination entered his optics. “I would stop a war for you.”

Jazz leaned into the servo cupping his face. “I know, and Prowl, you make me happy. Happier than I ever expected to be.” He reached his own servo to rest against the hand cupping his face. “They’ll find a way to get rid of me if I don’t. If there is a war they’ll blame it on me. You know your aides have never been happy with our bonding. You know they want you to replace me with a Prax—”

“Jazz, stop. _Please_.” The servo that had been resting on his knee joined the other, so both were cupping his face. Prowl locked optics with him, his voice firm but warm. “ _Love_. Listen to me and listen to my spark. No mech and no femme will replace you. No aide or advisor will stop me from loving you. They can say all they want but remember this: my spark is yours just as yours is mine. Nothing will change that as long as my spark is beating.”

Prowl leaned in slowly, brushing their lips together in a barely there touch. Pulling back, he met Jazz’s visor. “Please Jazz...” Unable to see the normally proud Praxian begging, Jazz closed the distance between them again, losing himself to kiss. His spark swelled with the love and care he felt for this mech who meant so much to him. In less than a vorn he had found his greatest strength and greatest weakness. This mech had become his everything. 

Breaking apart, Jazz looked back at the datapad he had been clutching when Prowl had walked into the exam room. “It doesn’t look wrong, right?”

Prowl shifted his optics down to look at the image that had left his lover a shell of himself. On the datapad was a model of Jazz’s frame with one major change—thin, elegant sensor wings had been added to his frame.

Prowl paused, giving the image a long look. “It doesn’t look like you but if this is what you feel needs to be done, it will, in time. Wings or not, it won’t change anything between us.”

Jazz let out a long vent. He began piecing the broken pieces of himself back together. “If I don’t like them. Can they be removed?” Jazz asked, finally turning the pad off.

Prowl pulled the pad away. “Not without some major coding modifications. It’s easy to add, but once your frame and coding acclimate the change it’s nearly impossible to remove them,” Prowl whispered.

Steeling himself, Jazz stood, squaring his shoulders. He had little choice. If this was the sacrifice he needed to make to be with the mech who completed his entire being he had to do this. No, he _needed_ to do this.

“I’m ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this totally went WAY different than I thought it was going to do. My first idea was definitely a much lighter approach but the angst bunny attacked and I just couldn't stop. Poor Jazz forced to get wings since he bonded with a Praxian. And Praxian's thinking anyone outside their frametype as being less. Shame on them!
> 
> Please let me know what you think. Comments are always loved and appreciated! 
> 
> Also no beta so let me know if you spot any grammar or spelling mistake. :)
> 
> Much love! <3
> 
> Now continued in Chapter 7: [Royalty](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25681516/chapters/62632828)!


	3. Time Travel (Family AU Part 1 of 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you believe in time travel?”
> 
> Prowl looked up from the datapad he was working on to look at his mate. "Time travel?”

“Do you believe in time travel?”

Prowl looked up from the datapad he was working on to look at his mate. "Time travel?”

“Yeah, ya know. Time travel. Going somewhere else in time, accidentally changing the timeline and messin’ up Cybertronian life for all eternity. That time travel." Jazz said, a cheeky grin making its way to his lips.

“That’s awfully morbid of you. But no.” Prowl responded before returning his attention to his work.

“What?! Why? You don’t even think it's a possibility?” The surprise in his voice evident. “You don’t have to believe in it to _believe_ in it. Ya know?”

“Jazz, that makes no sense. You either believe in time travel or you don’t. There’s no in-between,” Prowl stated, putting down his datapad again, and letting out a long vent. He wouldn’t be getting work done any time soon.

“O’ course there is. No no no, now listen here,” he held up a servo to stop Prowl from responding. “You have three options. One: ya believe time travel’s possible and could be happening right now as we speak. Two: ya believe time travel is possible but we haven’t figured out how to do it yet. And three: it isn’t possible.”

Rubbing his helm, Prowl felt a helmache building. It had been a long orn at work and while he had finished most of it at the office, there were a few datapads he still needed to get through. But instead of staying late, like he had for the past decacycle, he brought the work home.

Sighing and rubbing his helm yet again, Prowl added, “that still doesn’t explain your prior statement. That would still fall under believing in it or not. But what has you thinking about time travel?” Prowl paused carefully weighing his next sentence. “It…doesn’t really seem like something you’d be interested in. Beyond the latest holovid.” The moment the words left his vocalizer he knew he had crossed a line.

“Prowler. Babe.”

Prowl winced. Yup, he’d definitely crossed a line. Turning off the datapad, he put it aside. Work could wait until tomorrow. Standing up, he moved to sit next to his bondmate on the sofa. “I’m sorry love.” He grabbed the others servos in his own. “I didn’t mean anything by that. But what brought this on? It’s very out of the blue.” He paused. “Is there something you're unhappy with that you want to fix?”

Jazz linked their digits, giving a small squeeze. Face contorting into an unhappy expression, Jazz locked optics with his mate’s. “It’s Blue. I wish we could’ve found him sooner. No bitlet should have to go through what he went through.”

They both grimaced. It had been complete coincidence that the youngling had found his way into their lives. Kismet, the medic who had treated him had told them. According to the medic, if they hadn't found him when they did, the gray mechling, recharging in their spare berthroom, could have very well joined Primus in the Well.

Prowl pushed calm confidence into his field. “I know Jazz but he’s with us now and he’s getting better every orn. Wishing to change the past does us no good in the present. It also does no good for Bluestreak. We might not know what happened to him before he found us, but Bluestreak will heal, and we’ll give him the best life we can,” Prowl said, pushing his field to completely mesh with his mate's. 

Jazz curled into his black and white partner, letting out a soft purr when Prowl wrapped an arm around him. “He’s the best thing to happen to us in a long time Prowler. I think Primus was looking out for not just him but us too, when he found us.”

“I couldn’t agree more love.” Prowl murmured, running his servo up and down Jazz’s arm. They sat letting their fields push and pull against one another. The earlier hurt acknowledged and forgiven. “But back to what started this…even If time travel were possible I wouldn’t change anything because I wouldn’t want to risk not meeting you and loving you.” Prowl’s spark spun a little faster when he felt the absolute adoration brush against his spark.

“And other mechs say ya aren’t a romantic Prowler.” Jazz leaned over to place a kiss on the other’s shoulder. “Glad they think that or else ya might’ve gotten picked up before I met ya.” Jazz turned so he could look at this lover. “I’m glad they never gave ya a chance. I knew from the moment I met ya I wanted to bond with ya.” He paused, cocking his helm to the side. “And if you had been with someone else, I don’t know what I would’ve done. Probably kill a mech or botnap ya or somethin’. Woulda been worth it if I got ya though.”

Prowl leaned in, stopping a whisper’s breath away from the other’s lips. “Oh? Is that so? You would’ve become a criminal for me love? Jazz…I don’t know whether to be honored or concerned.”

“Ya big lug. Now c’mere.” Jazz wrapped his arm around the other and leaned in to connect their dermas. Prowl sighed into the kiss. Even after vorns together this feeling of being whole never got old. Jazz wasn’t the only one who knew from that first moment that they were Meant To Be. Prowl slowly broke the kiss and pressed his chevron against Jazz’s helm. “I love you Jazz.”

“I love ya too Prowler. With all my spark.”

—

In the hallway leading to the berthrooms, tiny wings attached to a tiny body, fluttered, as tiny optics watched the moment unfolding in the living room. Nodding to himself, Bluestreak turned around back to his berthoom.

Settling himself under the covers the small, gray mechling let out a small smile bloom across his dermas. He pulled a crumpled photo out of a small pocket in his armor, brushing a finger over the figures in the worn out flimsy.

It was funny his caretakers were talking about time travel. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

“I’ll protect you, I promise.” He whispered to the image.

Comfortable under the covers, he felt the pull of recharge starting to pull him under. It was one of the limitations of having a body so small. But, small body or not, he had a mission. He would save his creators. It was what he travelled back in time to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaaaat? Blue's a time traveller? Who would've thought. Not me! ;)
> 
> This one was really fun to write...a little angst, a little romance, a little mystery. 
> 
> ALSO, longest chapter yet! Woo! It was almost the shortest so when it started zig instead of zag I went with it. Hence 1000+ words instead of like 600. 
> 
> No beta...so if you see any errors please let me know!
> 
> Comments and kudos always appreciated. <3
> 
> Now continued in [Chapter 13: Flower Shop](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25681516/chapters/63121981)!


	4. Bender (Soulmate AU Part 1 of 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The only reason I see mechs come ‘round here, drinkin' highgrade like that is either because they caught their conjunx in berth with another or had a bad breakup or someone died.”
> 
> Frowning, Prowl swept his wings back in offense. "I don’t think that's any of your business.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I took a completely different approach to this prompt. A bender can also be a wild drinking spree.
> 
> Soooo.....
> 
> Chuuu chuuuu! All aboard the angst train!!!

Prowl pounded back another shot of highgrade. While he didn’t normally over-indulge, he was determined to lose himself until he couldn’t feel the hurt in his spark.

“How many has that been Prowl?”

Prowl turned away from the voice. It didn’t matter who they sent out to try and bring him home. They always said the same thing.

_It’ll get better._

_It hurts now, but you'll get over it._

_You’re better than this Prowl. Mech up._

He didn’t want anyone to break him out of misery. “Not enough,” he spat. He grabbed the last remaining shot in front of him and slammed it back before the mech beside him could take it away. “Go away,” He snapped, his engine letting out a dangerous snarl. “I don’t need a babysitter. If I want to get overcharged, I will.”

“You can’t keep this up forever Prowl.”

“Watch me,” he replied, voice rough. “I’m leaving.” He pushed back from the counter, roughly pushing past the other. “Don’t follow me.”

—

“So what'd they do?”

Prowl slowly blinked. What? “What?” The confusion evident in his voice.

“The only reason I see mechs come ‘round here, drinkin' highgrade like that is either because they caught their conjunx in berth with another or had a bad breakup or someone died. You're not really reactin' like a mech who just lost someone. There's usually a lot more tears and a lot less anger."

Frowning, he swept his wings back in offense. "I don’t think that's any of your business.”

“Says you, mech. Keeps things ‘round here interesting to see why mechs are drinkin’ themselves to oblivion.”

Prowl pushed back his stool and threw a few credits on the bar. The highgrade here wasn't that great anyway.

"Tetchy..." the mech whistled as left. He wasn’t running away. He never ran away.

Except when…

No. He deleted that thought from his processor before it could establish a new directory. He didn’t want to feel.

—

Prowl didn’t remember how he got to the bar he was at, but the mech behind the counter kept shooting him sympathetic looks. Or were there three mechs giving him that look? He couldn’t tell.

He looked down at the drink he was cradling in his servos. He frowned at the light, frothy drink. He never ordered this light solar drinks. Why had he…? Bitterness bubbled up in his spark and the next thing he knew the cube lay broken in a thousand pieces at his pedes.

How did that happen?

“Alright Prowl, let’s get you home.”

He didn't feel the servo grab him by the shoulder and direct him to the door.

—

“How long has this been going on? I thought you said you had everything under control.”

“I do. Well, I thought I did. He can be sneaky when he wants to be. You know that. And he wants to be sneaky right now.”

“He’s been overcharged for four orns now. How hard is it to keep track of a single mech who can’t even transform? Who can barely walk straight?”

Prowl didn’t try to keep up with the voices as they passed his room. Had it really only been four orns? It felt like an eternity.

He slowly sat up and winced. His frame ached, his processor ached. But he deserved it.

Finding his pedes, he slowly stood; it took a few kliks for the world to stop spinning. He slowly placed one pede in front of the other. He didn't want to face the others. He had always been the perfect creation, the perfect sibling. For once, he wanted to be selfish. He didn't want to be the perfect puppet.

One thing the others said was true. He could be sneaky when he wanted to be. Ignoring the argument in the other room he left.

—

Prowl stumbled down the street, nearly lost to the oblivion of being blissfully overcharged. He knew he was acting like a youngling, but for the first time in his existence, he didn’t care. Feeling another bout of frustration and anger, he looked around to try and find someway to release the pent up emotions. Spotting a piece of trash, he brought his pede back to kick it into an alley. But rather than feeling the satisfying clang of the metal sailing away, instead, he felt a sharp pain shoot up his leg. Cursing at his luck, he limped along.

Like almost everything in life, the pain in his pede was sharp to begin with, but it faded with every step.

He stopped and glared at his pede. Why couldn’t the pain in his spark do the same?

“Y’alright there mech? You look like ya’ve hada rough dark cycle…”

Prowl slowly brought his helm up. Had he said that outloud?

“Y’did. Come on…starin’ at ya’re peds ne’er solved no one’s problems.” The mech came up to his right side, and placed his arm over his shoulder. “Left pede, right pede...yup jus’ like tha’." They took a few more steps before his rescuer broke the silence. "There’s a nice lil’ cafe a few blocks from ‘ere. Ya can treat me to a cube for helpin’ ya. Dig?”

“What?” Prowl’s muddled processor had trouble processing the thick accent. Shaking his helm to try and clear some of the static. “A cube at Iron Work’s?”

“Yup,” the other replied, popping his last glyph. “Now c’mon mech. Ya look ya could use a friendly audial.”

—

Prowl watched in awe as the mech in front of his proceeded to order half a dozen dishes off the menu.

“I thought I was just buying you a cube,” Prowl groused.

“Ya ‘re.” The other winked half his visor. “Treats’re on me, mech.”

“Oh.”

“So wha’s go yar door wings all up in a tizzy?” the other paused, as their server placed six dishes and their cubes on the table. Grinning, he grabbed a rust stick and popped the entire thing in his mouth, humming in satisfaction. “G’ on, eat. Best fuel ‘round.”

“I proposed to my courtmate.”

The other paused, his second rust stick nearly to his mouth. “Did ‘e say no?”

“No. I mean, he said yes,” Prowl replied, slowly turning the cube in his hands.

“Tha’s good, righ’?”

“It was.” Prowl paused. Did he want to acknowledge to a stranger what had happened? Looking at the earnest face across from him, Prowl realized he did. A complete stranger would give him insight friends and family never could. “I broke it off.”

“Primus mech. Seems kinda fragged up.”

“I didn't have a choice.”

“Ya always got a choice mech. Not e’eryone is a good one but ya always 'ave a choice.” He reached across the table to grab his hands. Prowl slowly brought his optics to meet the visor across from him. “Ya mighta made a mistake bu’ I bet this mech still loves ya as much as ya seem to love ‘im. Y'can fix it.”

"My family would never accept it." Prowl grit his denta. 

“Frag 'em then. If 'e makes ya tha' happy. Who cares wha' they think."

Prowl felt his spark start to beat with hope. “You think he'd forgive me?”

He’d be dumb not ‘ta. Especially if ya tell 'im ya're willin' to give up yar family for 'im. Not let’s eat. ‘M starving, I jus’ got in from Tarn a few joor ago.”

Unable to stop the hope bubbling in his chest, he quietly whispered, “thank you.”

—

Outside the little diner, Prowl held out his hand to the other. “Thank you. Again. Not many mechs would stop to help a stranger. And then give him relationship advice.”

“Think nothin' of it mech. I'll consider it ma good deed for the vorn.” Reaching out his own servo, he grasped Prowl’s hand.

Prowl paused. “You know, I never got your name.”

“Oh? Silly me.” The other chuckled as he began walking away. “Bu' if ya want it, y’can call me Rico.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Le gasp! Rico what are you doing so far from home? It couldn't be because your spark-broken brother called you about his broken off engagement?!? Pshhhh. Of course not. ;)
> 
> Also, longest chapter yet! And I can't seem to wrap up a story in one go. I guess I better start planning these out a little better.
> 
> I probably won't catch up until the weekend. Work has been kinda crazy and the only time I've been finding time to write is right before bed.
> 
> Did you see the twist at the end? Did you think it was Jazz at first? Did you love it, hate it? Let me know! :)
> 
> Now continued in [Chapter 19: Soulmates](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25681516/chapters/63526567)!


	5. Bed Sharing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Placing a hand on Jazz’s shoulder, Prowl motioned toward the door. ::Mission success is down to 41.567% and falling.:: He gave Jazz a heavy look. ::This isn’t going to work.::

Jazz moved like quicksilver through the halls, slinking from one shadow to the next to get to his destination. Arriving, he used a single digit to quietly tap against the door.

One. Two. Pause. One. Two.

He pressed his helm to the door, waiting. Three quiet taps responded. Target out but could wake up at any moment. Cursing under his breath, he slunk out of the doorway and waited against the opposite wall.

A few kliks later, the hall lights went dead, and the door he had been tapping on swooshed open with barely a sound. Golden optics met a blue visor.

::Did it work?:: He commed, pushing off the wall to meet the other in the middle of the hall.

::We have a 64.7% chance of success, but we have 3.2 kliks to leave before our presence will be noticed. If that happens we reach a 99.147% chance of mission failure.:: Prowl responded.

::Roger that, mech. Let’s go.::

Jazz took a single step before he froze. He cocked his head to the side, expanding the range of his horns. ::Did ya hear that?::

Prowl turned back around to face the door and extended both doorwings. Hearing nothing, he turned around. A few astroseconds later both mechs froze when they heard rustling through the door.

Placing a hand on Jazz’s shoulder, Prowl motioned toward the door. ::Mission success is down to 41.567% and falling.:: He gave Jazz a heavy look. ::This isn’t going to work.::

::I’m not givin’ up love. We got this far; I ain’t stoppin’ now. C'mon. The longer we wait the less chance we have of gettin’ out without bein’ noticed.:: Squaring his shoulder Jazz grabbed his mate’s hand and slowly manuevered them down the hall.

It was do or die.

A quick step to the right and they avoided the squeaky spot in the hall. With the next step they moved up against the wall to avoid a booby trap. Slowly but surely they moved further from their target to freedom. Taking one last step, Jazz let out the vent he'd been holding. “We made it.”

“Barely. That was too close Jazz. The next time we need to plan this out better,” Prowl paused, his eyes dimming as he ran a few calcuations. “Yes, our chances of success go up significantly if you initiate the protocols next time and I stand guard.”

“But Prowl…” he whined. "The las’ time I did that, my audials nearly got blown out.”

“We learned from that mistake. It won’t happen again.”

“Dear Primus. You two are something else.” Both black and whites turned to shush their companion with varying looks of disdain on their faceplates. “I mean…”

“Y’ don’t know how hard it is Smokes. Hardest thing we’ve ever had to do.”

“I would agree.” Prowl added, moving to join his brother.

“Cari’?” A soft voice interrupted. All three adults froze.

Jazz threw their Praxian guest a hard glare before turning around and bending down to pick up the small form making its way to him. "What is it bittie? I thought your ‘Geni helped you go into recharge.”

“No. Want Cari’.” The young mech snuggled under his chin and against his spark. “Bed?”

Jazz stroked a hand over tiny doorwings. “Y’ gotta go to recharge by yourself love. I thought you wanted to be a big mech. Big mechs stay in the berth by themselves”

“Nooo." The younger whined, his voice getting louder. “'Geni and Cari’ recharge to-get-her. Want Cari’." He paused before placing both tiny servos on Jazz's faceplate. "Please?”

Jazz dropped his helm against his creation’s. He was at a loss.

“I think that’s my cue to leave. It seems you two have your servos full.” Smokescreen said.

"I'll walk you out Smokescreen.” He replied giving his brother _The Look_. Turning to his mate, Prowl added, "if you head to his room, I’ll join your shortly.”

Jazz watched his mate walk out before looking down at his creation. “Ready for bed love?”

“With Cari’ and ‘Geni?” Big blue optics began to droop as the pull of recharge started to settle back in.

“Yes, with Cari’ and ‘Geni.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure this is my first one and done one-shot of the series. It's on the shorter side but I'm happy with how it turned out and where I left it. I think it ties itself up nicely at the end.
> 
> And poor Prowl and Jazz...they just want one night where the kid stays in bed and they can spend the night in their bed together. Guess no one shared with them the difficulties of training kids to sleep alone. Ahhh the joys of parenthood. ;)
> 
> Also, thank you to everyone who has been leaving comments and kudos. Y'all are the best!


	6. Enemies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for the chapter. Enjoy!

Jazz liked everymech. Well, almost everymech.

Jazz did not like Prowl.

In fact, Jazz despised the tactician.

But it hadn’t always been that way.

.

.

.

Jazz had liked Prowl in the beginning. Their introduction started with an undercover mission. It had gone sideways from the moment they hit enemy territory, but despite everything going against them, they had successfully completed their mission and made it out alive. Their commanders had been pleased; they saw their potential together and used it every chance they got. Those early vorns of the war they spent more time behind enemy lines than in Autobot bases. Their success had become legendary. No other Ops team had been as successful as they were. They attributed that success to a spark-deep trust in one another. Trust like that took vorns to develop. They did it in less than one.

Jazz would never admit it but their connection in the beginning had been electric.

But like most partnerships they had their disagreements. They each stood steadfast in their beliefs and when they clashed, they _clashed_.

Even despite their fights, even when they both came away worse for wear, they came out closer on the other side.

Centivorns passed. Their partnership deepened, and they rose through the ranks side-by-side, never straying far from one another. While they occasionally were assigned to work with other operatives, high-value and high-risk mission were always together. The trust that had come so easily was what made them the longest surviving team in Ops.

They were always seen together, and mechs and femmes loved to talk. Bets were made and rumors started. Neither of them were inclined to share; it was their secret. One of the few they were allowed to have.

But the war changed mechs.

And one orn, Jazz and Prowl stopped talking.

Prowl left Ops and moved to Tactical.

Where before they were together, now, they were always seen apart.

Mechs and femmes asked what happened.

Neither of them talked. 

But before, where Jazz had been loud and physical, he was now quiet and withdrawn, and where Prowl had been cold and stone-faced; he yelled and flipped consoles.

Finally, Jazz had given their curious on-lookers an answer.

“‘E’s no frien’ o’ mine. Mech’s made it clear,” He told them, voice sharp. “We both fight for the ‘Bots but ‘e ain’t no ally o’ mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was very differently written compared to my previous chapters. I've been very dialogue heavy so I wanted to try something a little different. Did you like the style? Or do you prefer more dialogue? Let me know!
> 
> After I'm done, if I don't do a continuation of this one later on, I might add to this. I love me some BAMF Prowl and Jazz goodness. :)


	7. Royalty (Royalty AU Part 2 of 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a continuation from Day 2: [Wings](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25681516/chapters/62434225#workskin). I highly suggest reading it before continuing!

Jazz angled his body to the right and then to left to look at his new wings.

“How do they feel? No pain?”

Jazz turned to the medic in the room with him, fanning out his wings for the mech to see. “A little residual soreness but His Highness has been very accommodating during my recovery.”

“Ah, yes. So I’ve heard.” The medic replied, a small smile on his face. "He had the servants all a-flutter. Reminds of newly upgraded mechlings fawning over the latest gossip.”

Jazz preened under the Praxian’s words. “His Highness spoils me.”

“Good. I’m happy he’s being so diligent with your recovery like any doting bondmate should be. Now, I’d like to check the housing to make sure everything is healing correctly and your frame is integrating the new components. Up on the berth with you.” He said, patting the only exam table in the room.

Jazz hummed in agreement as he delicately sat on the berth, his back to the medic. While the new wings didn’t hurt like they did those first few orns, they were still healing, and a wrong move made them ache. He had learned that the hard way when he had tried to do too much too soon, and his stubbornness was what had probably set off the Estate's staff.

The medic unclasped the protective cover over the housing. “Things look like they are healing very nicely My Lord. I’d say another deca-cycle and they should be fully integrated. If you do feel any significant discomfort though, please come in.” The medic pulled a specialized scanner out of his subspace. “Now, time to see how your processor is handling the extra hardware.”

Jazz obediently cycled open his main medical port. “Prowl—His Highness wrote me a patch to deal with the added input. He said it would help me shunt the extra input to a secondary processing thread so it wouldn’t crash my processor.”

“No need to censor yourself my My Lord.” The medic said as he plugged in. “I know you have to keep to decorum in court but not here. The life of a royal is never easy and there are few places where you can truly be yourself.”

“You’re very frank.”

The medic let out a fully bodied laugh. “My Lord, when you get to be as old as me, you learn that flowery words don’t get you very far. It doesn't matter who it is. They can be fellow staff or royals. In the end, _most_ mechs appreciate the bluntness.”

The medic was a warm presence in his processor. Expert fingers gently brushed against the code, combing through his Bonded’s patch. ::Everything looks like it’s processing as it should. Your coding is very adaptable.:: The medic pushed the code back into its place and easily disconnected himself. “Please pass along my compliments to your Bonded. While I’m sure your code would have adapted just as well, it looks like his patch has helped it along.”

“I will Medic.” Jazz slowly slid off the berth, stretching his limbs and wings. Jazz crossed the room to stand back in front of the mirror to get one final look at himself. He'd soon be officially presenting his new look to the court. “Thank you. For everything.”

The medic came to stand behind Jazz. “There is no need to thank me My Lord. I was doing what was asked of me.” He motioned for Jazz to turn around so they could be optic to optic. “But it’s more than that. I have seen the Prince grow into a strong, fair and kind ruler with you by his side these last few vorns. It makes me happy that he found himself again.

When he was young, the old King kept him isolated from others trying to shape him in his shadow. Prowl never took to his Creator’s ideals and was punished for his insubordination. The kind, caring sparkling I helped deliver into this world, became cold and calculated. It broke my spark because I knew he had the making to one of the greats.” The medic cupped Jazz’s cheek. “I had lost all hope; that is, until he met you. So, I thank you Lord Jazz. Praxus will prosper when His Highness takes his place as it's King with you by his side.”

Jazz froze. “I…”

“Hush My Lord. You don’t need to say anything, Just please, humor this old spark and remember this. Out there, you have power. I know you were hesitant and unsure and getting these wings. But you are now Praxian in their optics; the court will turn to you and follow your lead. You can create real change in Praxus.”

“I might look Praxian, but at my core, I’m still Polyhexian. You say they will follow me but there will always be turborats hiding in the shadows waiting for me to make a mistake. Many would do anything to take my place.”

The medic shook his head. “Don’t let them. You are strong-willed and clever and smart. Win over the people and the court will have to follow.”

“I’m just one mech. You’re asking me to change the world. How can one mech change everything?” Jazz whispered.

The medic shook his helm. “Functionalism is dying. It has been for centuries but the monarchy has treated the mechs it represents the same. Be that change. Take this kingdom into the modern age. You are not alone. His Highness will listen to you.”

Jazz stepped back from the medic, to put distance between them. “ _Why_ tell me this? It's treason to the Primacy. You can be executed for saying this. I know you have cared for His Highness for a long time but even he won't be able to protect from this.”

The medic bowed his head. "I'm sorry Lord Jazz that was out of line. Please forgive me."

“Never speak of this again. Now, if you’ll excuse me, His Highness is expecting me for the mid-orn meal. Good orn, medic.”

"Yes, my Lord."

Jazz slowly made his way back to the suite he shared with his mate, deep in thought. The medic had asked a lot of him, some of it impossible. And yet—functionalism could be cruel. Not every mech fit the function they were sparked for. But to completely do away with functionalism? It was the edict of the Prime. To go against it, even as a ruler of one of the city-states, could be seen as treason. No one was safe from that law. 

Arriving at the door to their suite he paused to reset his armor. Cybertron catered to the Elite; Praxus was no exception. In fact, some of the worst of it was within the city-states of Praxus and Vos; it was why he now had the wings on his back.

Could the change be worth it? Or would the cost be too high?

He shook his helm. There was so much to risk. He forcefully stopped that thought process as he entered the safety of their rooms. 

“Hello my love.” The Praxian in the room stood up to envelop Jazz in warm arms. “What did the medic say?”

Jazz melted into the arms around him. “He was happy with my recovery and approved of the patch you wrote. He believes it’s helping me recover much quicker.”

“I’m glad. Come, sit, I had the kitchens bring up your favorite dishes.”

“Oh? What are we celebrating?” Jazz asked, as he sat down in the offered chair.

“Your recovery, of course.” Prowl responded, handing a glass of high-grade to Jazz. “And something else.”

“Hmm?” Jazz hummed, taking a small sip.

“The King passed into the Well last night. In three orns I am to be crowned King of Praxus and at that time, I will announce that I have bonded my spark to yours. I want you by my side as my equal Jazz. We will rule Praxus together, as its Kings.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a lot of fun to write! And the poor medic, I think Jazz might've inadvertently scared him. Poor guy probably didn't think of the bigger picture. Or he did, and didn't care. Old age and all. ;)
> 
> Please let me know what you think! I should have the next update tonight so I'll be all caught up.
> 
> Woo!


	8. Secret Dating (Coffeeshop AU Part 2 of 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know I say this a lot Prowler, but I think today was my favorite date yet.” Jazz grinned as he took a few steps ahead to twirl on the sidewalk. “I feel like I’m rediscovering Iacon again with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning: Tooth-rotting fluff, mechs making kissy faces at one another and implied interfacing.
> 
> Continuation from [Chapter 1](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25681516/chapters/62351137#workskin).

“I have an energon frothed with silver and copper shavings, hot and an energon, hot with extra iron for Prowl.” The barista called out.

Prowl walked to the counter, dropped a few credits in the tip jar and picked up both cubes. Nodding his helm in thanks to the barista, the black and white Praxian weaved through the packed tables back to his seat.

“One frothed energon with silver and copper shavings,” Prowl said, placing the aforementioned cube in front of his companion before sitting down in his seat.

Jazz took a slow sip, making a face. “Ya know, I might be biased, but the fuel here don’t compare. Ya brother might be a nosey lil’ busybody but he knows how to mix fuel.”

“Mechs try to brew energon like we do in Praxus but most don’t understand it requires a delicate technique and practice.”

“I’ll take your word for it mech. Most I’ve ever been able to do is throw some additives into basic mid-grade.”

“Luckily for you, you know a mech who knows how to brew some better mixes.” Prowl took a small sip of his own fuel to hide his smile.

“Ah yes. Lucky me.” Jazz reached across the table to grab his companion’s hand before taking another sip of his fuel. Grimacing, he added, “we’re really gonna have to find somewhere else to grab a cube. This stuff tastes like slag.” Placing his cube on the table, Jazz used his free hand to grab Prowl’s drink. “Let’s see if yours is any better, yes?”

Prowl let out a deep sigh as he watched his own fuel get commandeered. Grabbing Jazz’s abandoned cube, he brought it to his mouth and took a long draught. “It’s not bad, but certainly nothing like we brew at the cafe.”

“Ya can have it then. Yours is much better. Next time, no matter where we go, remind me t’ get somethin' a lil’ easier for ‘em to make.”

“Of course.”

They sat together in a companionable silence slowly drinking their fuel. Prowl grimaced when he finished about half the cube. “I don’t know how, but it’s gotten worse.” He coughed. “I think that’s more than enough of that.”

Jazz let out a small laugh. “Now ya know why I keep visitin’ your brother’s place. Best fuel in Iacon.”

“Ahh, so you’re only coming in for the fuel then?” Prowl asked, cocking an eyeridge.

Jazz winked half his visor and flashed a smile behind his cube. “Might be somethin’ else there now that has me comin’ back.” Jazz squeezed the hand in his. “Well, someone.”

“We aim to please.” Prowl brought their linked hands up and placed a soft kiss on their interlocked fingers. “I certainly have my favorite customers.”

“I hope I’m one of those lucky customers or have ya been holdin’ out on me Prowler?” Jazz placed his nearly empty cube on the table to cup Prowl’s hand in both of his own.

Prowl leaned in. “I’d say you’re up there.”

“And what does a mech gotta do to top the list?” He leaned in closer. “This?” The kiss they shared was short and sweet.

“It helps.”

“Good, I like the shop I’ve found. In fact, I think it’s the best. Take it from experience, it’s pretty hard to find a decent cafe in Iacon.”

Prowl’s brow furrowed as he pulled back slightly. “We’re no longer talking about the fuel, are we?”

“No,” Jazz responded, his voice low. “We’re not.”

Prowl shook his head and softly laughed. “You’re impossible.”

“You love it though mech. Now c’mon. I have big plans for us today.”

Prowl allowed himself to be pulled up from his seat. They each grabbed their used cubes and dropped them in the bin by the door. Smiling at his companion, Prowl quietly mouthed, _I do_.

.

.

.

“I know I say this a lot Prowler but I think today was my favorite date yet.” Jazz grinned as he took a few steps ahead to twirl on the sidewalk. “I feel like I’m rediscovering Iacon again with you.”

“Don’t let Bluestreak hear you say that. I’m pretty sure he’s been trying to set us up from the orn he met you.”

Jazz threw his head back and laughed, dancing the last few steps to fall back in step with his companion. “Mech, he was laying in thick. Except, and you can’t tell this to ‘im either. I thought was trying to come on to me; not set me up with aloof, older brother. I didn’t realize til I told Rico; I think he laughed for ten kliks straight. Primus, I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life.” He bumped shoulders with his Praxian companion. “I almost didn’t come back the next day, but I couldn’t get you out of my processor. That next day you gave me your comm. number.”

“Really?” Prowl threw a quick glance at the smaller mech. “I didn’t realize. Lucky for me then that meddling brothers didn’t ruin _this_.”

Jazz hummed quietly in agreement, maneuvering himself so he was tucked under Prowl’s arm and he could wrap his arm around the Praxian’s waist. They walked another block before Jazz built up the courage to ask, “do you really have to leave tomorrow? Blue made it seem like you were gonna be able to handle your business here Iacon.”

“I’ll only be gone for a few orns, I promise. There are just some things I need to physically be in Praxus to care of.” Prowl stopped them, cupping Jazz’s face. “I will be back, I promise.”

“I know. Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna miss ya though. I’ve gotten used to seein’ ya every orn Prowler.” Jazz’s gaze dropped away. Huh, they were already outside his apartment. “Guess we’re here.” He looked away. The day had been perfect and he didn't want it to end.

“Jazz, Jazz, Jazz. We're going to say a proper goodbye."

"I like the sound of a 'proper goodbye', Prowler."

Prowl pressed their mouths together and Jazz felt his whole world narrow down to just them in that moment. Everything outside else outside of this breathtaking moment fell away. Pressing closer, he opened his mouth to deepen their kiss. Prowl rumbled his engine in approval.

Jazz felt like time stopped.

If his spark were to gutter now, he’d die a happy mech.

“Hey! Move outta the way. If yer gonna swallow one anotha’ get a room!”

They broke apart, both staring wide-opticked at a peeved looking hauler. “Get outta the way. Primus, kids these days!” They stepped away from one another and backed out of the doorway to make room for the Jazz's irate neighbor. “Sorry mech. Ahhh, got a little carried away there.”

The mech only grumbled as he roughly pushed past them and entered the building. “Next time jus’ take it upstairs!” He called back to them as he slammed the door in his wake.

“Primus, what crawled up his tailpipe?” Jazz exhaled trying to steady his spark. That moment, before they were interrupted, had been intense. His circuits buzzed at the thought of Prowl’s hot mouth trailing down his neck and continuing down, down, down. He quickly aborted the thought. _Bad Jazz_!

Prowl let his chevron press against Jazz’s helm. “I should go.” He whispered, before placing a soft-mouthed kiss on Jazz’s lips. “I have to get up early tomorrow and need to drop a few things off with Bluestreak before heading to my transport.” He pressed another soft kiss against Jazz’s lips.

Jazz didn’t want his Praxian to leave. Pushing the lust he still felt, he let his EM field brush against Prowl's. It felt like electricty was running up and down his spinal strut. “Y’know Prowler, you’re gonna be gone an awful long time. I hate for that moment to be the last one I have of ya for a few orns.” Jazz felt his spark surge at the heated look on Prowl’s face.

“Oh? We can’t have that happening now, can we?” Prowl brushed another kiss against his lips. The touch lingered a little longer.

“Better, but I have an idea.” Jazz took a step back and grabbed both of Prowl’s hands, leading him toward the entrance. “Come upstairs?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah mech, I’ve never been more sure of anythin' in my life.”

.

.

.

Prowl pushed the door open to enter the cafe.

“Morning Prowl!”

“Morning Blue. I wanted to stop by to give you these.” He pulled two datapads out of his subspace. “Barring any complications, I should be back in three orns. If you have any problems though please comm. I might not be able to answer right away but I'll get back to you as soon as I can.”

“Thanks Prowl. I appreciate all your help with this.” Bluestreak slipped the two pads into his own subspace. “Where were you last night? You usually give me a heads up when you'r going to be gone all dark cycle.”

Prowl gave his brother a knowing look. “You know I have my own place now. Just because I still stay with you most orns, doesn’t mean I won’t occasionally spend the night there.”

Bluestreak leaned across the counter, his optics shining with delight. “Were you with Jazz?”

“Of course not. I barely know him, and he’s a customer Bluestreak. That would be crossing a line. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

“C’mon Prowl. You have to admit he’s a catch. I see him watching ya while he's here. And I see you watching him when he isn't looking. _I sense a growing con-nec-tion..._ " Bluestreak sing-songed.

“On that note, I'm heading out. Goodbye Bluestreak. I'll see you in a few orns.” Prowl turned around and headed to the door.

Before he fully left the shop, his brother managed to say, “You don’t know him like I do, but I’m tellin’ ya Prowl, you two are made from each other! Have a safe trip!”

The older brother just shook his helm. If only his brother knew how right he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest. One-shot. Yet.
> 
> And I finally caught up! It only took me 8 days to get there. ^^
> 
> I know I said it in the previous chapter, but I think this little story arc is my favorite so far. 
> 
> Comments/kudos always appreciated but never expected.
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


	9. University

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl's late. And nothing is going to stop him from getting to his Professor's office on time. Poor Prowl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning: Robot cursing

For the first time his in entire functioning Prowl was going to be late. And today of all days was the one day he Could Not Be Late. It was the first time he was going to be sitting down with the University’s history professor, Ultra Magnus, to go over the course materials for the upcoming semester. Magnus was very by-the-books. And saw tardiness as a personal insult. And if rumors were to be believed, the last time a graduate student had shown up late, the prickly professor had fired him and nearly got the mech kicked out of his program.

Of course, it was only rumor but…

Would Magnus allow it to make its way through the rumor mill if it wasn’t?

Prowl pushed his engine that much harder.

Swerving into the school’s designated transformation lane, Prowl didn’t even bother coming to a complete stop before transforming into root mode. He ignored the sharp “Hey watch it fragger!” from the mech behind him and sprinted to the Liberal Arts building. His meeting was in 13 kliks but in reality he only had three kliks to get there. And the building he needed was on the other side of campus.

Dear Primus he was so fragged.

Ultra Magnus had specifically asked for him to arrive early.

_Because a mech who’s on time is 10 kliks late._

So, so fragged.

Prowl shouted warnings to try and get students out of the way but for those who ignored him or didn’t hear him? Well, he pushed his way past them shouting apologies as he ran past. He could deal with any complaints later (and he would, he was normally a nice, reserved mech, thank you very much). But right now the timer on his HUD was slowly ticking down and a spark-deep panic was starting to set in. _Frag frag frag frag_.

He was so close.

Bursting through doors of the history building, he knocked one door completely off its hinges and left a rather large dent in the other (mechs would talk about for decacycles). Prowl didn’t stop to admire his work, instead, he sprinted down the last corridor before sliding to a stop in front of Magnus’ door. Vents wheezing and frame dispelling hot air, Prowl watched the last few astroseconds tick by on his countdown.

“I made it.”

“Almos’ thought ya were gonna be late Prowler.”

Prowl froze. _It couldn’t be_. He turned around to see the same black and white mech he had left recharging on his berth before heading to the school. Prowl felt his processor beginning to freeze and one thought kept repeating over and over again.

“How did you beat me here when I left before you?!”

The visored mech flashed him a grin. He opened his mouth to reply but the door in front of them both opened.

“Prowl, Jazz thanks for coming. Please, take a seat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not really sure what this is. I think part of it is me trying to figure out what I wanted write about before the day was up. And then just really writing what I was thinking. 
> 
> I guess it works? ^_^
> 
> But real talk. Has anyone else had a teacher or professor tell you the 10 minute thing? I think it was the best piece of advice I got in college.
> 
> Also tomorrow's prompty...Reverse Crush? If anyone has a suggestion, I'm all ears. :D


	10. Reverse Crush (Workplace AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How does a sibling ruin the night you've been looking forward to all week?  
> Not to mention, it's the same night you've planning to use to tell a certain black and white mech how much you care for them.
> 
> Poor Jazz is about to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: mentions of fratricide, my attempt at a complicated accent and excessive use of a blender. (You'll know when you know) ;)

Jazz hummed quietly to himself as he placed the last dish for dinner in the oven. Tonight’s meal was special and he needed to make sure it was perfect. Jazz was finally going to confront Prowl about his feelings.

It had been complete coincidence he had found out the Praxian had even liked him in the first place.

Jazz had been having a bad day at work and when he had a bad day, all he wanted to do was avoid others. He knew it probably wasn’t healthy, but it worked and helped him get out of his rare funks. So when two mechs walked by his chosen hiding spot of the day, talking about Prowl, the Polyhexian mech couldn’t help but follow. Jazz was a curious mech by nature, and one of his biggest frustrations in the office had nothing to with the work, but how mechs treated Prowl, Jazz's best friend. He hated when others disrespected his Praxian and despite his foul mood, if the mechs he was following said anything out-of-line, he’d make himself known.

So it came as a complete shock when they causally mentioned Prowl’s “ _oh-so-obvious_ ” triple-changer sized crush on him. It was apparently “the talk of the office” and “the hottest ‘ _will they or won’t they_ ’ bet in a _centivorn_ ”.

Jazz didn’t know whether to be mortified that his love life was _the_ gossip, or that he was too blind to know his best friend had apparently liked him for vorns. And everyone else, but him, seemed to know about it. 

A few cubes of high-grade later Jazz had decided he didn’t care what mecha were saying.

Hungover but sober the following morning, Jazz decided he maybe-possibly- _definitely_ felt the same way about Prowl.

It still amazed him that eight joor completely changed his world view.

But tonight was the night.

And everything was going to be perfect.

Jazz cocked his head when the buzzer at his door went off. This was early, even for Prowl.

Frowning, he went to the door and peeked through the eyehole. “Wha’ the frag Rico?” Jazz exclaimed, while opening the door. “Ya can’t be here righ’ now.”

"Oh good, ya're home." 

Jazz fumed as his brother pushed past _without even saying hello_ to enter his apartment. “I don’ know wha’ y’re problem is Rico bu’ y’can’t stay ‘ere t’night.”

“C’mon Jazzy. Ya’d put yar brother ou’ on th’ street?” Ricochet asked, flashing his green visor at Jazz.

“Yes!” Jazz grabbed his brother by the shoulders and tried to push him to the door. “Any nigh’ bu’ t’night, I'd let ya stay. Bu' ya gotta go bro.” Unfortunately for Jazz, his brother didn’t budge from his spot. _Stupid slagger_.

“Somethin’ smells good in ‘ere Jazzy. Y’makin’ somethin’ fancy?”

“Get. Out.”

"Is it a date?"

"Out Rico."

“Y’know. I don’ think I will,” he said as he flopped down onto the couch. “Really don’ wanna sleep ou’ on th’ street when they’re callin’ for acid rain t’nigt.”

Jazz let out a frustrated noise as his brother made himself comfortable. “I hate ya.” The timer in the kitchen beeped. Jazz growled, “this ain’t ov’r Ric. Ya leavin’ ‘fore ‘e gets here.” Pushing his growing frustration down their bond, Jazz marched back to the kitchen. The last thing he needed was to ruin tonight’s meal by burning it because he was arguing with his brother.

“Ya mus’ really like this mech to be makin’ all these fancy treats.”

Jazz nearly dropped the dish he was holding when his brother suddenly appeared behind him.

“Ric, I don’ ask a lotta ya mech, but t’night’s special and I really need ya ta leave. I’ll even give ya a few creds for a room and dinner.”

His door’s buzzer went off again. Checking his chronometer Jazz cursed. It had to be Prowl.

“Ric so help me. Y’can stay bu’ if ya leave the berthroom, I will offline ya.” Jazz said, shoving a plain cube of mid-grade from his pantry into his brother’s hands. “Now go b’fore I jus’ kick ya out like ya deserve. _Through tha window_.”

"So violent Jazzy. This mech know wha' he's gettin' into?"

Jazz's optics narrowed.

“I’m goin’, I’m goin…Primus, don’ lose ya’re armor ove’ it.”

Jazz waited for his brother to close the door before heading to the door to let Prowl in. “Sorry ‘bout tha’ Prowl. I had to take care o’ a few things.” He pushed the surprise and frustration with his brother down. He wouldn't let the mech ruin this night.

“No problem at all Jazz.” The small smile the Praxian flashed him made Jazz’s spark flutter. “I’ve been looking forward to spending the evening with you all deca-cycle.” 

_Yes_. Jazz wouldn't let Ricochet ruin this night.

.

.

.

The time passed quickly and Jazz was delighted at the compliments Prowl had made about the different dishes he made. Dinner then turned into a quiet conversation on the couch, reminiscing about the ' _good 'ol days_ ' and where they saw themselves in a few vorn. Eventually, they settled into a comfortable silence. Jazz knew this was his moment. The night was beginning to wind down and if he didn’t say something soon, he’d lose his chance.

“Prowl.”

“Yes Jazz?”

“Prowl, I’ve—“

But before Jazz could finish his thought a loud whirring noise burst from the kitchen. Both mechs froze. It stopped before starting up again a few astroseconds later.

Jazz saw red. “Rico!” He leapt off the couch and stomped toward the noise. Stopping in the doorway he shouted again. “RICO!”

The noise cut off leaving the room deadly silent.

“Wha’. The. Frag.”

“I was hungry.”

“Hungry?”

“Y’can’t make all tha’ food an’ jus’ gimme a cube o’ mid-grade. Not my faul’ ya cleaned up.”

Jazz felt Prowl step up behind him. “Jazz, I can leave.”

Jazz felt his spark stutter. He turned around. “No don’ leave Prowl. My brother—”

Ricochet turned on the blender again. Snarling, Jazz whipped around to glare.

Ricochet _grinned_.

Jazz fumed. “As I was sayin’—”

The whirring started again. Jazz twitched.

“I’mma—"

_Whirrrrrrr_.

“Rico would ya jus’ stop!” Jazz yelled. When the blender didn’t turn back on, Jazz threw one last glare at his brother before turning around to face his Praxian guest again. “I’m so sorry Prowl. Ric stopped by jus’ b’fore ya got ‘ere and wouldn’t leave. I told ‘im to stay in my berthroom. ‘E obviously didn’ listen.”

“Jazz…please don’t apologize. I have brothers. Three of them. I'm sure if they were in the same position, they'd do something similar. I had a wonderful evening and your brother just made it even more memorable. Thank you for a wonderful evening.” He looked over Jazz’s shoulder. “I’m sorry you couldn’t join us for dinner--Ricochet, right?” When the mech nodded, Prowl added, “if I had known you were here, I would have insisted Jazz let you eat with us.”

“Well that’s the firs’ decent thing I’ve heard all evenin’. I c’n see why Jazzy likes ya so much.”

“Rico…”

“Wha’? Ya mean he don’t know?”

“I’m sorry Prowl. I need to go kill Ric right now.”

“Jazzy? Why ya givin’ me tha’ look? I’m sorry!” Ricochet slowly backed up. “Jazz, brother o’ mine. Ya wouldn’t hurt y’re twin, now would ya?”

“C’mere Rico. Let’s find out.”

“Ack!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ba hahahaa. I had a lot of fun writing this. Why a blender? Because when you search "reverse crush" on Google a blender is the first thing to show up. Who would've thought? So I figured 'why not' and the above chapter is what my brain came up with. ;)
> 
> A special shoutout to InMoNochrome for pushing me to include it.


	11. Star-Crossed Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their relationship is forbidden. When forced to choose-who will Prowl and Jazz pick? The Autobots or each other?

“You know the regulations.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You know I’m going to have to report this.” The Prime rubbed his helm. “I thought you would’ve known better; the both of you. You’ll be lucky if the only thing the the Council does is fine you. They could easily force your resignation, or worse, strip you of your title as my Second.”

Prowl sneered. “My title means nothing, and my resignation would be the death of the Autobots. The Council knows this. They can't afford to force me out.”

The prime slammed his hand on the table. “Prowl stop being so stubborn. While you might have some allies on the Council because of your heritage, Jazz does not have that luxury. I won’t be able to protect you from them.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to protect me Prime. I’m more than capable of protecting the both of us myself.”

A knock at the door interrupted Optimus’ response.

 _Who is it? I'm in an important meeting._ He asked through the comm.

_Jazz._

Optimus buzzed the door open and watched Jazz saunter into his office before flopping into the seat next to his Second.

“Jazz.”

“Optimus.”

Frowning at his top Generals, Optimus didn’t know what to do. He had trusted these two mechs with the lives of not just his Autobots, but the lives every single Cybertronian. “First off, I’m incredibly disappointed in both of you. Secondly, no mech, no matter their rank is above regulations. I shouldn’t have to remind my Second and Third of this.” 

“I don’ see why wha’ ‘appens behind closed doors affects this army.” Jazz’s scoffed. “Mechs ‘ave been hookin’ up wit’ soldiers and officers since the start o' this Primus f'rsakin war, Prime. Y’ ‘ave no problem askin’ mechs to die for ya, but when they try t’ find a release from all the stress of fightin’ a neverendin’ war…ya punish ‘em? Frag that.”

“Jazz and I have never let this,” Prowl motioned between the two of them, “stop us from doing our jobs. We have very few mechs we can turn to because of our rank. You and the Council would fault us for finding a confidant? Someone worth fighting for?”

Optimus felt the anger that been simmering just below the surface rise up again.“There are mechs you can talk to if things get too hard. You risked everything for what? A berth partner? Pleasure? Is losing it all worth what you got?”

"Yes, it's worth it. And y’know wha'? I also don' like what y're implyin'. It never been jus' 'bout the fraggin'." Jazz finally sat up straight, his visor flashing. "Bu' ya know what really frags me off--it sounds like ya wan’ me t’choose OP. Don’ make me choose. Make sure to tell the Council tha'.”

This meeting was done.

“If you must report us to the Council then so be it.” Prowl stood up. Nodding to his Prime, Prowl stood up and made his way to the door, Jazz close at his heel. “Just know this Optimus-if they ask me to choose, they won’t like my answer. Good orn, Sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet and gets us right where we need to be for the continuation of this down the road.
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


	12. Childhood Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl was Jazz's absolute best friend. Nothing and no one was ever going to change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: discussions about mental health, unnamed mechs dying

“Tell me about Prowl.”

Jazz frowned. Everyone wanted to talk about Prowl. “Prowl is _Prowl_.”

“What’s he like?”

The Polyhexian cocked his head to the side so he could stare at the mech across from him. The mech was unassuming. Bland colors and an average frame. Jazz decided he hated him. But, if talking with this mech and telling him about Prowl would mean he’d _get out of here_ …well, he’d done worse things than talking about Prowl in his functioning.

“Prowl is my oldest and closest friend. We met when we were young. Hit it off right away if you know what I mean.” Jazz paused waiting to see if the mech would comment. The mech nodded at him but that was it. The silence that grew made him uncomfortable. He hated silence. Silence was _bad._ Frowning, he asked, “aren’t ya gonna ask me about my mechlin'-hood?”

“I want to hear what you want to say Jazz. If you want to start from when you were a mechling-that's where we'll start. You are the one driving this conversation. Today is about you.”

“Oh.” That was different. Jazz gave the mech in front of him another look. He was definitely boring but the colors were kinda inviting and the whole space made Jazz feel relaxed—he'd been in a lot of these types of offices and he'd never felt welcome in one before. “I met him after my Carrier died. I was out in the street crying and he came up to me, asking if I wanted to play.

“We hit it off and every day he’d be waiting for my outside my home. He always knew what I needed even when I didn’t know what it was. We grew closer as we got older, and I eventually got to a point where I couldn’t imagine my life without him. He completed me in ways I never knew another mech could." Jazz sat up. He needed this mech to understand. "Things never went beyond friendship but I can say without a doubt that he’s my best friend. I know I wouldn’t be who or where I am today without him.”

“Why do you say that Jazz?”

“Because he’s the one who helped me heal from my Carrier's death. Medics told my Sire the bond-break nearly offlined me. Prowl saved me. He was also the one who pushed me to move to Iacon. And to try my servo at music,” Jazz smiled as he remembered the first time he played a song for the Praxian. He swayed to the melody and fluttered his wings. “He loves music by the way. Mech can’t hold a tune for anything but he appreciates good music when he hears it.”

“So he supports your career choice?”

“Nah, mech. He wanted me to make sure I could take care o’ myself too. It's why I took that office gig. Pretty boring work but a decent paycheck.”

“Good advice. Your Sire must be happy he pushed you to find a steady job.”

“My Sire hates Prowl,” Jazz hissed. “Says he’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to me--even more than losing my Carrier. Mech can go to the Pit for all I care.”

“When’s the last time you talked to your Sire?”

Jazz frowned. “When he kicked me out because I refused to stop seeing Prowl.”

“Do you want to mend that relationship?”

“No.” Jazz frowned, his remaining creator was still a very sore subject for him. “Can we talk about somethin’ else.”

“Of course.” The mech let out a warm smile. “Let's talk about your life here in Iacon. What else do you do for fun?”

“Not too much. Work, perform when I get a gig, visit bars and such. What most mechs and femmes my age do.”

"Who do you go out with?”

“Prowl, mostly. He doesn’t get along great with my co-workers. He's pretty quiet when he doesn't know somebot. But when he’s busy, I’ll go out with a few friends from work for a cube. Doesn’t happen too often, but I have fun when it does.” Jazz replied, his voice taking on a harder edge.

“I’m just asking Jazz. I want to know what your life is like here in Iacon. No judgements, I promise.”

“Ya better mech.”

“So you’re happy in Iacon?”

“I guess. Things could always be better, ya know? But, I’m happy with the life I’ve got. I wouldn’t change much even if I could.”

A soft ding came from the mech’s desk. Jazz let out a small exvent. Their session was done.

“Now, Jazz,” the mech put the datapad on the table between them. “I have this supplement I’d like you to start taking in the morning. It should help with your concentration. Do you think you can do that?”

“Y’think it’s my concentration that’s messed up? That’s a first.” Jazz scoffed. All these doc types were the same. “I guess. If I don’t like it though, I’m gonna stop taking it.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want you to feel off. Make sure to take it with a full cube of mid-grade though. The first few orns it might upset your tank, but if it lasts more than a decacycle, please stop taking it immediately and call my office. Sound good?”

Jazz nodded, he knew he wouldn’t be leaving empty servo'd.

“Anything else?”

“I think that’s it for today. I’d like to see you again in a decacycle.” Jazz saw the ping on his HUD. He read through it before accepting.

“Thanks mech. See ya next decacycle.” Jazz stood up from the couch and stretched to loosen the few cables that had tightened. _Frag, that felt good_.

Pushing open the door, he grinned at the black and white Praxian waiting for him. “Hey Prowler! Thanks for comin’!”

The mech smiled at him. “Sometimes you need someone looking out for you Jazz. You need to get some fuel. You’re starving.”

Jazz checked his fuel level, letting out a sharp laugh. “Prowler ya always know what’s best for me.” Jazz looped his arm through the other’s. “Let’s go! I saw this tiny little place down the road I know you’re going to love.”

The pair made their way to the door, chatting quietly; neither of them seeing the small camera in the corner.

The same camera that was linked directly to the monitor in front of him. He stared wide-eyed at the screen.

Because while Jazz was having a conversation-the Polyhexian was the only one who left his office. There was there was no Prowl greeting Jazz in his office.

In fact, as far as the mech could tell from his co-worker's notes, Prowl wasn't even _real._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I'm *very* late with this. I think I rewrote this prompt 3-4 different times and was never happy with what I came up with.
> 
> But then lightbulb!
> 
> I was finally able to knock this prompt out tonight and I like the way this turned out. lt's a lot of dialogue with very little detail but I think I'm okay with that and I think it works. Let me know if you couldn't follow it...I can add some more in to help clear it up.
> 
> I read back through last chapter. I'm not 100% happy with it and plan to tweak it a little. I'll let you know when I do!
> 
> ALSO, I won't be able to update again until Sunday night. I'm going out of town for the weekend and won't have access to my computer. Yay for mini vacations in the middle of a pandemic.
> 
> Happy weekend all and THANK YOU SO MUCH for reading. I'll try to catch up early next week. :)


	13. Flower Shop (Family AU Part 2 of 4)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crystals are just Cybertronian flowers, right?!
> 
> Continuation of [Chapter 3: Time Traveller](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25681516/chapters/62453854)!
> 
> Chapter warnings: Get ready for the feels

Jazz smiled fondly at the young mech pulling him around ooh-ing and ahh-ing all the little things catching his attention.

It had been three decacycles since the little mech had been dropped into his and Prowl’s life. The beginning had been a learning experience for all of them. It had taken time for Bluestreak to open up to them and it had taken them time to learn what he needed, even when he didn't ask for it. But once they figured it out it was like a switch had been flipped. Bluestreak had become a completely different youngling.

He loved to be with them and wasn’t afraid to voice his opinion.

Jazz thought it was adorable, and every orn further cemented the fact that he wanted to officially add the young Praxian to their small family. For Jazz, the law wasn’t moving fast enough, but Prowl had explained to him that they had to do it by the book because they still had no idea where Bluestreak's creators were. But, by doing things right, it would guarantee that Bluestreak would remain theirs even if his creators ever tried to get him back.

To know that no one would ever be able to take him away made the wait worth it.

Of course, Jazz would never admit, not even to Prowl, that he kept a small counter on his HUD counting down to when they could make it official.

“Jazz?”

Jazz’s spark warmed at the open adoration in the young optics. He crouched down so he could be optic-to-optic with the younger mech. “Yeah Baby Blue?”

“I, uh,” he paused, his brow furrowing in thought. “I wanted to tell you I had a lot of fun today. And I bet one day, when you have a bitlet, you’ll be the best creator.”

Jazz blinked his visor. While he and Prowl had talked between themselves about adopting Bluestreak they hadn’t mentioned anything to him. “That’s sweet of ya Blue.” Jazz gathered the young mech in his arms, hugging him close to hide the concern on his face. “But are ya not feelin' welcome at home? Prowl and I love havin' ya with us. Ya know that right?”

Bluestreak buried his helm in Jazz’s shoulder. “I know,” he whispered.

“Prowl and I _want_ you Blue. I know we haven’t told you yet but we’ve been trying to make you officially ours.” _Primus_ , this was not how they were planning to tell Bluestreak they were trying to adopt him.

Jazz felt his spark drop when the young mech shook his head against his shoulder. “I can’t stay.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because…I can’t.”

Jazz’s spark lurched at the quiet admission. It wasn’t the answer he wanted or was even expecting. Bluestreak seemed so happy with them. Had they not done enough to show him how much they cared? He hugged the youngling closer to stop the keen building in his vocalizer.

He and Prowl had always talked about having a family together. And Bluestreak just seemed to click with the two of them. 

And Jazz _wanted_ him. More than anything else. 

For once, Jazz wanted to be selfish and keep this sweet spark safe and loved in their home.

He completed their family.

And now…

“I’m sorry Jazz. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

“It’s not your fault Blue. Prowl and I should’ve had this conversation with ya before we acted behind your back. So, I’m sorry for not thinkin’ more about your feelin's.”

Bluestreak shook his head and pulled back so he could look in Jazz's optics. “No! You and Prowl are the best. I want to be with you and Prowl but I can’t. If you find out my secret, you wouldn’t want me.”

“Nothin' Bluestreak. _Nothin'_ , no matter what, would make me want you less. And I know Prowl might not be here right now, but in my spark, I know he feels the same exact way. We. Want. _You_.”

Jazz felt his spark break when the young optics in front of him began to fill with tears. He pulled the small body back against his own and hummed a soft melody to calm him down.

"Shhh, sweets. It's goin' ta be okay. I have you." Jazz pressed a kiss against the small helm. He whispered, "no mech, not even Primus will take ya away from us. I promise ya."

Jazz felt the tears seep into his armor.

There was obviously a lot more trauma there than he and Prowl had ever realized. 

“Jazz?”

“Yes sweetling?”

Bluestreak pulled back. Sniffling, he asked, “can we get some crystals?”

“Crystals, hmm?” Jazz asked, starting to walk down the sidewalk again, while rubbing a hand up and down Blue's back. “That sounds like a wonderful idea. You might not know this, but Prowl is quite the crystal whisperer. In fact, it’s because of his hobby that we met.”

“Really?” A sniffle.

“Yup.” Jazz smiled. “My brother thought I needed a hobby and signed me up for a crystal class. I met Prowl that first day and I knew from that first moment our optics connected I was gonna bond with him.”

Bluestreak's mouth dropped open. “That sounds made up!”

“Sounds it, but I promise. It’s true. You can ask Prowl yourself when we get home.”

"Feel better?" Stopping, Jazz nuzzled him. He felt a nod against his chin. “Good because we’re here. Do you want me to put you down?”

“Yes please.” Jazz placed the youngling on the ground before opening the door so they could step inside.

“Now, be careful. Crystals can be very fragile. We don’t want to break any. Understood?” An exuberant nod was his response before the young bot dashed down an aisle. Wincing, Jazz quickly followed, shouting, “no running!”

.

.

.

Jazz placed the crystal garden on their dining table. The arrangement was stunning and it had been Bluestreak who had designed it, and Jazz couldn’t wait to show Prowl. According to the shop owner, Bluestreak had a natural talent for crystals.

The door to their habsuite whooshed open.

“I’m in the kitchen Prowl.”

Prowl walked into the kitchen and gathered his mate in his arms. “How was your day?”

Jazz hummed and leaned into the embrace. “A lot happened we're gonna have ta talk about, but I want you to see something first that I know you’ll like. I know you say it isn’t a Praxian thing but I think our young charge is just as good as ya're with crystals.”

“Oh?”

Jazz placed a quick kiss on Prowl’s lips before stepping out of his embrace. “Ya heard me right. Look,” Jazz said, pointing at the display. “He did that all by himself. Even picked out all the crystals.”

Prowl froze when he saw the arrangement. It was not the reaction Jazz was expecting.

“Prowler?”

“He did this himself?”

“Not exactly the reaction I was expectin', love. We didn’t curse ourselves or somethin’, did we?”

“No, no, Nothing like that.” Prowl took a closer step to the table the arrangement was displayed on. “But that small crystal hidden behind the large green one? The white one? It’s very rare and very controlled.”

Jazz frowned. “The shop owner didn’t say anything about that. He practically let us walk out with this for free.” Jazz frowned, looking around his mate to see what caught his attention. “I don't recognize that one, but they kept placing crystals and takin' 'em out that I probably missed a few. What’s so special about that crystal anyway?”

“This is the kind of crystal that’s used to make spark chambers. It’s probably one of the rarest elements on Cybertron. No mech who works around crystals would sell this. And even if they did, they wouldn’t give it away.” Prowl frowned. “You went to Opal’s, right?”

“Yeah. The place you like to visit.” Jazz confirmed. “You think Bluestreak stole the crystal?”

“No. Opal doesn’t stock this type of crystal.” Prowl looked down the hall to Bluestreak’s room. “But one thing is certain, this,” Prowl gestured to the crystal in the arrangement, “is something we need to ask him about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun! What's this...a mystery??? And maybe a hint at why our little time-traveller is visiting the past. ;)
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has been leaving comments and enjoying the twists and turns each of these little stories are taking. Your comments totally make my day. :)
> 
> I will do my best to catch up this week! But to make it up to you I hope you enjoyed this longer than normal chapter.


	14. Social Media

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A vague posting by Jazz on the datanet has the crew wondering what he meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: none :)

“Why would he post that?”

“Y’don’t think…”

“No! Of course not.”

“But even so…”

Prowl walked past the group of whispering mecha. It was the third such one he had encountered on the base just this orn along. He had seen at least six the orn before and eight the orn before that. Of course, while seeing mechs conversing in the halls wasn’t unusual at all-the scale _was_.

Prowl sighed. Never a dull moment certainly described the oddity that had taken over.

A hushed voice drifted his way. “Look there’s Prowl.” Louder, the mech added, “Hey Prowl! Gotta question for ya!”

Prowl was too dignified to roll his optics, but it almost happened. The last thing he wanted to happen was getting involved with the scuttlebutt. Fortunately, he'd been lucky that no mech had approached him. Until now.

But seeing as Prowl was an officer, even if it was only a junior one, and the ( _slim_ ) chance this was Autobot related, Prowl had no choice but to turn around.

“Yes Sideswipe?” Prowl asked.

The aforementioned mech shot a quick glance at his twin before focusing his attention back on the Praxian. “Have you seen what’s been posted on the ‘net?”

“I just recently got back from a campaign near the frontline Sideswipe. I have better things to do in the rare moments I’m off-duty than browse the datanet.” Prowl snipped. He was tired and just wanted to go to his quarters. “If that’s all you wanted to know, then I’d like to be on my way.”

“No, wait!” The red mech quickly said before Prowl could turn down the hall. Taking a datapad out of his subspace, he shoved the thing towards Prowl’s helm. “You know what this is about?”

Prowl had to lean back so the thing didn’t hit him in olfactory. “Sideswipe…”

“C’mon Prowl. At least see what it says. No one knows Jazz better than you.”

The Praxian frowned. “Something Jazz posted is what’s got this whole base acting like _mechlings_?”

“Umm…yes?”

Gritting his denta, Prowl took the offered datapad and looked at the text on the screen.

He blinked.

And blinked again.

Nodding, he handed the datapad back to the red twin. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention Sideswipe. Now, if I’m not mistaken you have a shift starting in a few breems, yes?”

“Well…yeah. But c’mon Prowl. You know what it means don’t you? Can you give me a hint? Wait...Prowl, don’t go! A hint, any hint!”

Prowl slowed down to look over his shoulder. “Two breems Sideswipe and if you’re late, you’ll be on cleaning duty down in the brig.” Turning around yet again Prowl called back, “Good orn Sideswipe.”

 _Primus blessed_. Two words that had Prowl shaking his head. Of course Jazz would post something that gave away nothing and everything at the same time. 

But Primus blessed indeed, Prowl thought. Now he had to go and confront his partner—and wasn’t that something he never thought he’d be able to say—about posting vague messages on the datanet.

Jazz didn’t need to stoke the rumor mill to get Prowl’s attention anymore.

He already had it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea stems from vague-booking.
> 
> So Jazz being the slippery mech he is, decides to tease his fellow soldiers on the Cybertronian equivalent of Facebook. Sneaky mech. ;)
> 
> Enjoy!


	15. Mythical Creatures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz liked to hang out on the rooftop to escape reality when it became too much. He just never expected the Praxian gargoyle next to him to come alive once the sun went down.

Jazz watched as the last few rays of Cybertron’s suns dipped below the horizon. Turning, he took the few steps needed to cross the rooftop to stand behind the large Praxian gargoyle.

It only took a few more breems for the sky to turn completely dark and as the last vestiges of light left the sky, the metal in front of him came alive.

“Heya mech,” Jazz said, as the now statue-turned-mech stretched his wings.

“Good dark cycle.” The Praxian let out a deep sigh as he felt a pop deep in his spinal strut. Straightening, he turned to the visored mech. “To be truthful, I wasn’t expecting to see you this evening.”

“I know. I didn’t think I’d be here either.” Jazz shrugged, scuffing his pede against the roof. “But here I am.”

“You’re uncomfortable.”

“Well, it’s not everyday you find out the statue you’ve been pouring your spark out to during the light cycle magically comes alive the one orn you stay past sunset.” Jazz looked away. “To be honest, I was hopin’ it was all some weird recharge flux.”

“I’m sorry. I know it’s a lot to take in, but if it makes you feel any better, I never meant to scare you that first night. I think I was just as surprised as you were.”

Jazz turned his gaze back to the Praxian. “Understatement of the century mech. Not yer fault I nearly fell off the roof in surprise.”

“Even so, I still apologize. I meant you no harm,” he said, his voice firm. After Jazz nodded, he added, “as far as I can tell, I haven’t awoken in centivorns. I don’t know why your presence changed that,” Prowl said as he carefully stepped down from his pedestal and held out one of servos, palm up. "It's an honor to finally meet the mech who saved me. My designation is Prowl."

Jazz looked at the servo and let his optics rove up the frame to finally meet the golden optics. The mech was stunning. A classic beauty if Jazz had to describe him. But while the mech was a looker, it didn’t explain the funny little flip-flop his spark did when the mech was looking his way. His spark had never reacted like that to another mech before. It almost felt like it was pulling him toward the other, and was the reason he ran that first night.

Jazz had tried to ignore that pull and had succeeded for three orns. On the fourth it had become too much; which is why he found himself back on the very rooftop with the mech who made it happen. Face to face and only an arms-length apart. "Nice to, ah, meet you Prowl. I'm Jazz." Hesitating for only a klik longer, he let their servos meet for the first time.

 _So warm_.

“Did ya come back to life…even though I wasn’t here?”

“Yes. It appears that whatever locked me in that form has lost its power.” Prowl pulled Jazz closer by their linked servos. If Jazz leaned forward a little more, he’d be in the other’s arms. “It seems whatever curse was bestowed upon me has been broken. I owe you my life Jazz. I am forever in your debt.”

“It-it was nothing Prowl.” Jazz felt his cheeks began to warm. _Why was he reacting to this mech so much--was he even a mech_? _He_ had _been a gargoyle for Primus' sake!_ But Jazz was nothing, if not curious. “You can’t remember who or what did this to you?”

“No. I’ve been trying to search through my memory but, I’m assuming, because of my long imprisonment a lot of it got corrupted. Whether it was the magic or time, I do not know. Jazz, I—“

What felt like a zap of electricity emanated from their joined servos. They both froze.

Jazz tried to pull his arm back in surprise first, but his arm and servo stopped responding. Alarmed, he pulled harder. Instead of helping, a bright, white light began to glow from their joined servos. “Wh-what’s happening?! P-Prowl, make it stop! It’s burning!”

Jazz couldn’t see Prowl’s face because of the growing light between them, but he heard a snarl as the Praxian began to mutter phrases in a language Jazz didn’t know.

The next thing Jazz knew the light was gone and he was on the ground being cradled in Prowl’s arms. “What the frag was that?!”

“I think you crashed.”

Jazz narrowed his optics behind his visor. Prowl was avoiding the obvious question. “I’m talkin’ bout the light mech.” When Prowl didn’t respond, Jazz sat up and scooted away from the other mech. “You know what that was, don’t you?”

Prowl looked away. “I have my suspicions.”

Jazz waited for the mech to continue. When no answer came, his engine let out a snarl. He didn’t _crash_ for no reason. “Prowl. What. The. Frag. Y’better explain now before I leave and never come back.” Jazz knew it was an empty threat, but he was frustrated, his helm hurt and there was an odd burning on his wrist.

Prowl turned his helm back around, optics widening.“Don’t go, _please_. I promise, I’ll explain.” Clearing his vents, Prowl turned Jazz’s hand around so the wrist that was burning faced upward. “I know my memories aren’t complete so I might not get this completely correct, but in my time, there was a legend that every mech and femme had a _Partner_. You didn’t know who they were or what they would become in your life, but they would be a part of it.” Prowl took a single digit and traced a glyph on Jazz’s wrist.

“But it was just a story. A way to give those coming into their majority a reason to explore and meet mecha. I’ve never heard of it actually happening. Until now.” Prowl stopped his gentle ministration of Jazz’s wrist to lock optics with the visored mech.

Breaking optic contact with the Praxian in front of him, Jazz stared down at their wrists. The glyph for _Partner_ was burned into the metal—not just on his wrist but also Prowl’s. “This can’t be real.”

“It seems you were meant to wake me up, _Partner_.”

Jazz’s spark spun a little faster. “ _Partner_ ,” Jazz read and it felt like the world shifted around him and everything fell into focus as memories and lifetimes flashed across his processor. It was too much and not enough all at the same time but one thing was certain: he knew this mech. He _knew_ this mech. 

He looked up, optics nearly white. Leaning forward, he pressed their helms together.

“ _Prowler_."

“ _My Jazz_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo who, ah, "borrowed" the idea from the Gargoyles cartoon and then completely took a left-turn about halfway through? Not me! ^^;;; (it was totally me)
> 
> But that counts as a mythical creature, right? I wanted to do something a little different. And I haven't read any gargoyle TF fics. So hopefully it's new! ;)
> 
> What did everyone think? Did you like it?
> 
> Also, I tweaked the previous chapter a little this afternoon. Added a few sentences to hopefully clear things up a little. So if you got a little confused or thought it was 'meh', maybe give it another go? Apparently I was just as good as Jazz at being vague. Bad Ouro!
> 
> And as always, thanks for reading. :)


	16. Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Autobots are losing the war. But Optimus hasn't given up hope...yet. 
> 
> There's one last thing he can try. He just has to find the door that will only open for a Prime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: none really

Optimus Prime was running out of hope. The Decepticons were winning on nearly every front and his soldiers, the very mechs who pledged their sparks to him, were dying. The Autobots were losing and he was running out of options. His Generals assured him they could turn it around—that it would only take one decisive win to reinvigorate their effort. The Matrix, nestled so closely to his spark, whispered something different.

Which is why he was here, under the Senate building deep, deep, deep in the archives of their race searching for something that might not even exist.

Back when life was simple and uncomplicated, when he had still been known as Orion Pax, he had heard a story. Of a hidden room deep under Cybertron’s surface that only a Prime could enter. So, what were the chances that a simple Archivist would be chosen by the Matrix and become Prime? That the last living mech who knew of this legend would have access to the very door that could save their race?

So Optimus did something he had never done before. He snuck away from his bodyguards and advisors to chase down something he didn’t even know was real. But Optimus didn’t want to give up hope. He believed that Primus put him on this path and he would follow through to the end.

And that path led him here.

To the door no one but he knew about and no one but he could open.

He let out a vent, brushing his fingers against the faded carvings in the metal. _It was warm_.

Pulling on the power of the Matrix, he focused on the writings on the door.

_Familiae viribus meis invocabo._

_Hercle vocationem, ex antiquis magicae._

_Et emittam furorem meum, et in servitutem redigerent._

He felt the power the Matrix put into his words, and curled his servos as it flowed out of his vocalizer. 

Kliks passed.

And his spark sank when the door stayed closed. 

He exvented. It _had_ only been a story. He gave the door one last forlorn look before turning around.

“‘Ey there.”

Optimus froze. A small black and white frame was leaning against the wall, a few mechanometers down the hall.

The mech pushed off, took a step and then was suddenly standing in front of Optimus, staring at him with a slight tilt to his helm. “Oy, Prowler. Seems ta me a new Prime wants to play wit’ fire. Don’ wanna get burned tho, righ’ mech?”

“Jazz. Don’t taunt the Prime.”

Optimus stilled his vents. It was only when he pushed out his sensors did he realize _another mech was behind him_.

Clenching his fists, he pulled himself up to his full height. These mechs didn't scare him. “My name is Optimus Prime. I have come down here to ask for your help. Cybertron is at war, and our planet and people are dying.”

The mech behind him scoffed, before brushing past him to stand next to the other mysterious mech. “And why should we care Optimus Prime? Your predecessor locked us down here for millennia. I have no love for this planet or its people.”

“The inscription. You are bound to me until I release you from my service.”

He stopped when the mech wingless mech shook his head. “Magic has a funny way o’ workin’ mech. Ya got no power ‘ere.”

“ _Enough_.” Optimus’ voice reverberated with power. His vocalizer was no longer his own. “ _My children are dying. You have the power to save them. Do so and you will be free from every being a Prime’s slave again_.”

Optimus felt the Matrix pull back. He looked down at the two black and white mechs in front of him. "Help me save Cybertron."

“Well, looks like we don’ ‘ave much of a choice, Prowler,” the smaller said.

The other turned cool, gold optics toward Optimus. “We’ll help you with your war Optimus Prime, but don’t think this is what we want. Primes have used us in the past and it’s always been the same.”

Optimus placed a hand over his spark. “I hope you will allow me to gain your trust. This war needs to end, and if we end it, I will free you if it’s within my power as Prime,” he promised. “Now, you know my designation but I don't know yours. Who are you?”

“You may call me Prowl.”

“Jazz.”

Optimus smiled for the first time since he started this crazy trek under the Senate building. “Prowl, Jazz…welcome to the Autobot Army.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So was that ending predictable? Let me know in the comments!
> 
> I liked the idea of OP hearing a legend when he was still Orion Pax and deciding that he has to see if it's true--he doesn't want to admit that the Autobots are near defeat. So down he goes and luckily for him that old legend is true! Hence, we get a magical Prowl and Jazz who have no desire to get involved with a Prime, even though only a Prime could break them from their prison.
> 
> I wouldn't want to be around them those first few vorn while they work past old scars.
> 
> Let me know what you think and thanks for reading! :)
> 
> Also, I used Google translate from English to Latin for the inscription. Hopefully it translated alright. The original is below:
> 
> I call upon the powers of my lineage.  
> Answer my call, magic of the old.  
> I unleash you into my Servitude.


	17. Masquerade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peace had been achieved. What better way to celebrate than throwing cross-faction parties?

Prowl thumbed the mask in his hands. It had appeared outside his habsuite a few orns ago with an invitation to one of many celebrations to celebrate the end of the war.

Peace had been rocky at first but with each passing orn, it held.

Of course, tensions still ran high; it was hard to forget millenia old prejudices, especially between the former Autobots and Decepticons, but if Prowl had learned one thing working through the growing peace it was that both sides wanted to make it work.

He wasn’t sure who was the one who suggested parties as a solution, but more than anything these masquerades had been what had gotten mechs from both sides to find common ground. It was spark-warming and made all the rechargeless dark cycles and long joors at the office worth it.

And that led him back to the mask in his hand.

While Prowl had helped with the initial planning—he was the first one to admit that planning parties just wasn’t his thing—he was one of the few mechs left who still hadn’t gone to one.

It appeared some mech wanted to change that.

The problem was Prowl had no idea who.

He began to open a comm line to his brother but paused. He knew what his brother would say. He’d tell him to go. According to his brother, mechs were noticing that he wasn’t making an appearance. It was apparently making some of the ~~Decepticons~~ former Decepticons uncomfortable.

Slipping the mask in his subspace, he turned to the door. “For peace,” he said, to reassure himself this was the right thing to do, before walking out.

.

.

.

Prowl stood back, avoiding the mass of bodies pulsing to the beat of the music. While crowds no longer bothered him like they did before the war, the crowd here was making his plating crawl.

He checked his chronometer again. He’d only been here for a little less than a joor, but he’d keep up appearances and stay for a little longer.

He’d been surprised when mechs, not just from the Autobots but also the Decepticons, recognized him immediately. He knew his frametype was rare, but with Neutrals slowly coming back planetside, he thought he had a good chance of remaining unnoticed. _No such luck_.

“‘Ey, Prowl!”

Prowl turned to the voice, nodding his head in greeting. “Sideswipe, Sunstreaker.”

“Didn’t expect to see you at one of these things. You always avoided parties during the war.”

“Apparently, my presence, or lack thereof in this case, has been noticed. I thought it was appropriate to be seen to show my support of the efforts for continued peace.”

Sideswipe let out a bark of laughter. “Slag Prowl. Only you could make a party sound like work.” The red mech slapped a hand on the Praxian’s shoulder. “You enjoy your work… I’ll enjoy mine. Later Prowl,” the red mech said.

"Prowl." Sunstreaker gave him an unreadable look before following after his brother.

Prowl shook his head. “I don’t know whether to be surprised or not that somethings haven’t changed.”

“Depends on who ya’re askin’ mech.”

Prowl jumped. The voice had come from right behind him. Turning around he came face to face with another black and white frame. Prowl froze.

“Didn’ mean ta scare ya mech.” The other flashed a fanged grin. “Glad ta see ya got mah invite.”

Prowl touched the mask on his face. “You sent me the mask?” He was stunned, out of all mechs who could’ve wanted him here—he was the last one Prowl expected.

“Y’caught mah optic early on in th’ war Prowl. Glad ta see we both made it out the other side to officially meet. ‘m Jazz.” The other held out his hand.

Prowl looked at the servo before looking up to stare into the other’s visor. Prowl grabbed the offered hand. “Nice to finally meet you as well Jazz. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“All flatterin’, I ‘ope.”

Prowl flashed a small smile. “Not at all.”

“Aww, at leas’ they were talkin’ ‘bout me.” Jazz motioned to the bar. “Wanna grab a cube? My treat.”

He paused and gave the other a calculating look.

“Don’ worry. Ain’t gonna knife ya mech. Peace an’ all tha’. Look bad if I did.”

Prowl found himself nodding in agreement. This is what these parties were for. To strengthen the peace between the factions. After all, having one of the top Autobots and top Decepticons seen together—he ran the calculation through his ATS—yes, it was the right decision to make.

“Lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops. I really got behind on this. Not that I want to make any excuses but I had a lot going on this week between work and home, and I also found out one of my best friends has Coronavirus. *sigh* Fortunately, it doesn't seem to be a bad case.
> 
> Anyway, on to the story. I started this last night as a continuation of my Royalty AU but it just wasn't coming out the way I wanted it to. So I stopped, and while walking my dog I came up with this idea. One where Prowl and Jazz were on opposite sides of the war for the *entire* war. I don't know if I've seen that done yet? So I figured why not, and knocked this chapter out super fast. So yay?
> 
> I'm probably not going to catch up before the end of the month but I will finish all 31 prompts. Promise!
> 
> As always comments and kudos are always appreciated and thanks for reading! :)


	18. Bookstore (Coffeeshop AU Part 3 of 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl and Jazz go on another date.
> 
> Continuation of [Chapter 1: _Cafe_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25681516/chapters/62351137) | [Chapter 8: _Secret Dating_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25681516/chapters/62650036)

Jazz hummed softly, delicately fingering the books on the shelves. Prowl had been the one to pick their date for the orn and had asked Jazz to meet him here. However, much to Jazz’s surprise, his black and white Praxian was no where in sight.

He stopped in front of a shelf and pulled out a random book. Prowl had certainly picked a unique place for them to meet. He had been pleasantly surprised when the bookstore exclusively sold bound flimsies. The style had gone out of favor for data pads but for some mechs, and Jazz wondered if Prowl was included in that group, still preferred real, physical copies of books.

“Can I help you?” A voice interrupted Jazz’s train of thoughts.

“Nah, mech. Jus’ waitin’ for somemech to meet me here. Thanks though.” Jazz replied, placing the book back in its place.

“If you need anything please let me know. The shop can be a little overwhelming for first timers.”

Jazz turned to the other. “That obvious?”

The other mech smiled. “Just a little. Plus, we’re the only shop like this in Iacon and I’ve never seen you here before. So either you’re here for a gift…”

“Or waitin’ for someone who knows their way around,” Jazz added.

“Exactly. But, please, if you have any questions while you’re waiting I’ll be at the counter.”

“Will do mech,” Jazz responded. He waited for the other to head back toward the back of the store before continuing down the aisle.

He checked his chronometer. It was well past the time Prowl had asked him to be here which was unusual. _Jazz_ was usually the one running late, never his Praxian companion. Pulling up Prowl’s comm code he turned the corner and nearly ran into another customer.

“Oh, I’m—Prowler, there ya are!” Jazz’s whole demeanor changed when he saw Prowl.

“Jazz, my apologies. Closing at the cafe took a little longer than I expected since Bluestreak took the day off,” Prowl responded, gathering Jazz in his arms and placing a soft kiss on his lips. “Forgive me?”

Jazz leaned into the embrace. Feeling Prowl’s arms around him never got old. “Always, Prowler,” he responded before leaning back in to steal another kiss. “Now, accordin’ to the mech workin’ this store, we’re in the only flimsy bookstore in all'a Iacon. Whatcha got planned Prowler?”

“You’ll see.” Prowl said, as he pulled back, only to grab Jazz’s servo and pull him toward the back of the store. “When I first heard about it I immediately thought of you. I hope you like it.” Jazz let himself get pulled along, a feeling he couldn’t quite identify warming his spark.

Stopping at the counter, Prowl waved to the mech Jazz had just spoken with. “Hi Orion, sorry I’m late.”

“Prowl! Great to see you again,” the mech flashed them a bright smile. “Ahh, this must be Jazz then, yes?”

Prowl held up their joined hands. “Yes. You two have met?”

The now named Orion let out a warm laugh. “You can say that.” Grinning again, the red and blue mech carefully pulled a package out from under the counter. “Here’s what you had me put aside for you Prowl.” Rather than putting the package in front of Prowl, the mech placed it in front of Jazz.

And Jazz felt his jaw drop.

He reached out slowly to touch but stopped before touching the flimsy. In front of him was an original sheet of music not just from his favorite composer but, also, his favorite aria. “But—how?” He turned to Prowl, his visor overly bright in shock.

“Do you like it?”

“Like it? Mech I don’t think any mech has ever given me somethin’ so perfect. This—this must’ve cost a fortune Prowl.” Jazz turned back to flimsy. He still couldn’t bring himself to lift it off the counter.

Prowl seeing his hesitation, picked it up. “Hush. Orion and I have been friends for some time and he helped me track it down,” Prowl stated, holding out the delicate document to Jazz. “Let me spoil you, please?”

Jazz felt his hands tremble as he finally took hold of the sheet music. This was the last thing he expected when entering the cozy store. “This is the last thing I expected.” He locked optics with Prowl. "Thank you. I-I don't know what else to say."

Prowl pushed reassurance into his field as he let it brush up against Jazz's. “You don't need to say anything.” Prowl smiled and placed a hand on his lower back, gently guiding Jazz to the door. “Thank you Orion.”

“No problem at all Prowl; I’m sure I’ll see you soon. And it was nice to finally meet you Jazz!” The mech waved as they exited the bookstore.

Once they left the store, Jazz slipped the sheet music into his subspace. He refused to expose it to Cybertron's atmosphere. Now he just had to figure out where and how to store it...

“Jazz?”

“Hmm?” Jazz hummed, turning toward his Praxian.

“You okay?”

Grinning, Jazz threw his arms around Prowl’s neck. “I’m better than okay Prowler. I’m perfect. Just thinkin' bout where I can put your _very_ thoughtful gift.” Jazz let his field fully mesh with Prowl’s. “I just don’ know how you’re gonna top that.”

“I have a few ideas…” Prowl began to lean in and Jazz pushed up his pedes to meet the mech in a short kiss. But before their lips could connect they were interrupted.

“I knew it!”

A gray Praxian stood a few steps down the sidewalk, a wide grin on his face and a finger pointed in their direction. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like the cat's outta the bag boys! Good luck trying to explain this. ;)
> 
> You can run but you can't hide from brothers who just _know_ you're dating the mech he's been trying to set you up with since forever.
> 
> This series should have one more chapter to go. You'll finally find out why Prowl went home to Praxus in [Chapter 8: _Secret Dating_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25681516/chapters/62650036) and how sneaky Bluestreak just _knew_ they'd be at the bookstore.
> 
> Hint: sneaky brothers are sneaky!


	19. Soulmates (Soulmate AU Part 2 of 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of [Chapter 4: Bender](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25681516/chapters/62505403)!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Robot curse words, angst
> 
> Also, since I know everyone kind of interprets Cybertronian time a little differently this is what I'm using the terms to mean:
> 
> Quartex --> Cybertronian equivalent of a month  
> Deca-cycle --> Cybertronian equivalent of a week  
> Orn --> Cybertronian equivalent of a day

It had been a quartex.

A quartex since Prowl had made the worst decision of his life. “I was stupid.”

“Ya were.”

“I never should have listened to my family.”

“Nope.”

“I want to fix things.”

“Then why ‘aven’t ya mech? It’s been a quartex since I dragged ya sorry aft 'ere ta Iron Work’s. Thought ya woulda fixed things by now.” Rico griped, while snatching another snack from the table. “Chrono’s tickin’ mech. And ya pushin’ yar luck waitin’ so long ta patch things up.”

Prowl let his head flop against the booth. “I don’t know how to start.”

“Sorry works real well. 'nd gifts. 'nd snacks, lots o' snacks. I highly recommend rust sticks.” Prowl lifted his head to stare at his companion.

“That’s…not a bad idea.”

“‘Course it’s not. I came up with it.” The smug tone was expected, the earnest expression on his face was not. “Either way, y’gotta do somethin’. No mech’ll wait 'round forever no matter ‘ow much they might love ya.”

Prowl shook his head. “It was more than that. Jazz was my soulmate.”

Rico frowned in confusion. “I know I don’t know ya tha’ well mech but tha’ seems a bit much for ya.”

“You’re not wrong. But Jazz and I, we got our sparks tested for compatibility." A distant look took over his face. "He’s a bit of a romantic, so I took us for our five vorn anniversary gift. I don’t think either of us expected the results.”

“Wha’ were they?”

“The Priest said he’d never seen so much natural resonance between two sparks. He—he wished us a happy bonding and a long life together.” Prowl let out a humorless laugh. “I think we nearly caused him to crash when we told him we’d been courting for less than a decade. Prowl let his head fall against the table. "I don’t know why I let my family convince me to give that up. He belongs in my spark.”

“Prowl,” Rico said, waiting for the Praxian to make optic contact with him. “If ‘e means tha’ much ta ya…ya gotta do somethin’. No more wastin’ time ‘ere with me. Ya got one orn or I’m gonna grab both o’ ya and lock ya in a room together til ya fix things.”

Prowl frowned, opening his mouth to say something but the orange visored mech held up his hand. “No. No more excuses. I didn’t think I’d like ya mech but I do. I wantcha to make things right.”

Prowl clenched both of his hands. “I fragged up didn’t I?”

“Ya did but I think y’can make it righ’.”

“Thank you, Rico. I’d probably still be drinking myself to oblivion if it wasn’t for you.” Prowl slipped a credit chip out of his subspace and put it on the table. "My treat today," he said as he stood up to stretch his wings.

“Where ya goin’ mech?”

“To make things right like you said. It won't be easy but I have to try. No more waiting.” Prowl responded.

"Glad ta see ya got it mech. G'luck."

Prowl nodded before heading to the door.

Ricochet watched the Praxian transform and smoothly merge into traffic. He kept his visor on the road until Prowl was out of sight.

Shaking his head, he grabbed a rust stuck and muttered to himself. “It’s ‘bout damn time.”

.

.

.

“‘m back Jazzy!” Ricochet called out into small habsuite. A grumbled response he couldn’t quite make out came from the living room. Rolling his optics behind his visor, Ricochet followed the sound to see his brother face down on the couch.

Frowning, he stood behind the couch. “‘ave ya been here all orn?”

Jazz turned his head so he could see his brother through his visor. “So wha’ if I was?”

Fed up with lovesick idiots, Ricochet shoved Jazz off the couch, causing his twin to yelp when he hit the floor.

Using his hands to prop himself up Jazz threw a heated glare at his brother. “Ric, wha’ the frag?”

“Get up. ‘m tired of seein’ ya mope ‘round this tiny place all th’ time.” Rico jumped over the back of the couch to sit in Jazz’s newly vacated spot. “This how y’want Prowl ta see ya when he comes beggin’ for ya ta forgive ‘im?”

The fire that had been there moments ago disappeared. “It’s been a quartex Ric. He ain’t comin’ back.” Leaning against his brother’s legs, Jazz buried his head into his brother’s armor. “I still love ‘im Ric. But I can't change who I am. I'm not good enough for 'im.”

 _Frag Prowl's family_. "Yar a catch Jazzy. Any mech who bonds ta ya is lucky."

"I want it ta be Prowl."

Ricochet winced, happy his brother couldn’t see his expression. Maybe he should tell Jazz he’d been meeting with Prowl and that the Praxian still loved him too. “Jazzy…” Ricochet started but Jazz held up a hand to stop him from continuing.

“It’s Prowl…” Jazz sat up, his visor white. “He wants to meet at the garden where we first met in a joor.”

Two visors met. One hesitant but scared, the other fiercely determined.

“Ya should go. Hear wha’ he has ta say.”

“Tha’s not what ya said back when ya first got ‘ere.” Jazz frowned.

“Call it a change of spark,” Ricochet responded, standing up and offering a hand to Jazz. “I don’ wanna see ya hurtin’ and if seein’ ‘im will do tha’ for ya, then tha’s what I want ya ta do.”

Taking the offered hand, Jazz pulled himself up. “Thanks Ric. For everythin’. For bein' 'ere and takin' care o' me.”

“Ch. Ya just owe me now." Ricochet stopped his brother before he could leave, a serious expression on his face. "But ya got this Jazzy. Jus' listen ta yar spark.”

"Listen ta my spark. Yeah, tha' sounds right. Thanks Ric!" Giving his twin a quick hug, Jazz left without looking back.

Ricochet smiled at the closed door. Hopeful for the first time in a quartex.

“I think it’s gonna go much better than ya think.”

.

.

.

Prowl was not one to pace but he found he couldn’t help himself. He was nervous. Jazz would-hopefully-be here soon and everything had to go right.

He looked at the speech he’d written saved to his HUD for the fourth time.

Primus, he really hoped Jazz would forgive him.

“Prowl.”

Turning around, he laid optics on the mech who was his everything for the first time in a quartex. He spark spun a little faster. “Jazz.”

He took a step forward but froze when Jazz began to step away from him. He winced. “I deserve that.”

Jazz said nothing.

Prowl wrapped his arms around himself to stop from taking the three steps it would take to gather the Polyhexian in his arms. The distance hurt.

One klik passed. And then another.

“Jazz, I’m sorry.” Prowl finally broke the uncomfortable silence. He looked at the script he had written and deleted it. This needed to be from the spark. “What I did was wrong. I never should have let my family dictate our relationship. This past quartex has been the hardest of my life because I knew you were hurting and I was the one who had caused it. I never want to cause you that pain again.

“I love you Jazz, and if you are willing to forgive me for my grievous mistake, I will spend the rest of our lives working to earn your love and prove to you that you are my everything.”

“Prowl, wha’ ya did...I expected from any other mech but ya. I wanted to forget ya,” Jazz took a step closer. “But I couldn’t get ya outta my processor. Or my spark. But what ya did… _hurt_." His voice caught. "Prowl, I'm still me. I’ll never be good enough for your family.”

“You are good enough for _me_. That’s _all_ that matters.” The conviction in his voice finally made Jazz look up so they were optics to visor. “You are all I need Jazz. You are my family.” Prowl took a step closer so there was barely any space between them.

Jazz took the last step so he could wrap his arms around the other black and white. “When I thought I lost ya...I thought my spark was gonna stop. I still love ya too Prowler. I don't think I'll ever stop lovin' ya. I want us to be a family.”

“We can be and we will be,” Prowl said. He broke away from their embrace to bend down on one knee. “Jazz, the light of my spark, would you do me the honor of bonding your spark to mine? To create a bond that not even death can overcome? Will you be my forever?”

“How can a mech say no ta tha’?” Jazz cupped the chevron crowned head between his hands. “Yes Prowl, I’ll be yar forever, only, if ya’ll be my forever, too.”

Standing, Prowl smiled for what felt like the first time in forever. “Always.”

He sealed their promise with a kiss.

And another one. And another one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This...got a little heavy at the end. But I'm okay with that because I think it needed to be. Prowl might lose his family but at least he'll gain one with Jazz and Ricochet! And you better believe that Ricochet is going to gloat the next time he sees them--and he'll take credit for them getting together for a lonngggg time.
> 
> Of course, neither know he was working it at both ends. Not yet at least. ;)
> 
> I think this chapter is the longest chapter yet. It was just over 1300 words when I copied it over from Pages.
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	20. Fairytale (Family AU Part 3 of 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time is running out for our tiny time-traveler. 
> 
> Continuation of [Chapter 3: Time Travel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25681516/chapters/62453854) | [Chapter 13: Flower Shop](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25681516/chapters/63121981)!

“A long time ago—”

“No, no Jazz. That’s not how it starts!” Bluestreak squirmed from his position snuggled against the black and white Polyhexian.

“Oh?” Jazz danced a hand along the youngling’s stomach making him squirm and giggle. “I thought I was the one telling the story?”

The youngling squealed, his vents gasping in air to cool his system. “St-t-t-op. It tickles!”

“The tickle monster has taken over my frame. I don’t know if I can stop Baby Blue. Losing…control. Rawr!” Jazz wrapped his arms around the wiggling frame, fingers finding the even more sensitive protoform underneath the armor.

“J-a-a-a-a-z-z-z.” Bluestreak managed to get out around his giggling.

Jazz smiled as he slowly let his finger come to a stop. “Will you let me finish the story? No more interruptions?”

“Yes please! And promise...no more interruptions."

“Good. Now where was I? Oh right. Once upon a time,” Jazz paused to look at the younger. The smile on the younger's face could've powered all of Cybertron. “A young mech, named Silverstreak, decided to go on an adventure.”

Jazz wove a daring tale about how the mech Silverstreak. He was a young but brave mech who left home to find a special crystal to save his family.

“And when his creators woke up from their eternal sleep, they wrapped him in their arms, thanking him for his bravery, and they lived happily ever after.” Jazz placed a soft kiss on the helm cushioned on his shoulder.

“How long has he been in recharge?”

Jazz turned his head toward the doorway, where Prowl had been standing for a few breems. “He fell into recharge a little bit before you stepped in.”

Prowl reached a hand out to help Jazz untangle himself from the covers. “Do you think he realized what you were trying to do?” Prowl asked as they both rearranged the sheets around the recharging Bluestreak.

“No,” he said while stretching. “He’s just a youngling Prowler.”

“A youngling who had a picture of us we don’t remember getting taken. It wasn’t a snapshot Jazz. Those mechs were looking right into the lens.”

“I know, I know.” Both exited the room and stood facing each other in the hallway. “Now what?” Jazz asked.

Prowl gave a long look at the closed door over his mate's shoulder. “You tried it your way. Now, I think it’s time to try it my way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter in our little time-traveler series! Poor Bluestreak thinks he's been good at hiding his secret. Too bad he never realized how crafty and clever Jazz and Prowl can be.
> 
> I've been meaning to say this for the past few chapter but THANK YOU to everyone who has been reading. I never expected this little undertaking of mine to take off like it did (especially since it's my first time posting something in the fandom and the fact I haven't written in years). Y'all are the absolute best. <3


	21. Circus (Dragonformers AU Part 1 of 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The black and white mech deflated. “My apologies. My designation is Prowl.” The now named mech bowed his helm. “When I saw you earlier today, it made my energon boil.”
> 
> Jazz felt his spark sink. Swindle had been right. “You are like me, aren’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: abuse, unwanted body modification thought nothing graphic

Jazz winked his visor at the mech who had been staring at him for the past joor.

Such was the life of a headlining mech with Swindle’s Circus of Peculiarities and Oddities.

But even so—

Somemech should’ve ushered him along by now. It was never good for business if Jazz had to keep an optic on one mech rather than using his full attention to play to the entire crowd.

And—ahhh, there they were. He watched out of the corner of his optic as Brawl placed a heavy servo on the mech’s shoulder and directed him toward the nearest exit.

Oh well. The mech should’ve known better.

Forgetting about the odd mech, Jazz turned his full attention to the crowd, preening and showing off in front of them. The ooh’s and ahh’s and the delightful sounds mecha were the same wherever he went. But the flashier his moves, the more likely they’d buy tickets and the sooner he’d be able to retire away from prying optics.

.

.

.

“That mech, in front of your stall, we caught him sneaking around during tonight’s performance.”

Jazz shrugged his shoulders. “Never met ‘im before. Don’t know why he’s hangin’ round after Brawl showed him out.”

“Is he _like_ you?” Swindle crowded up behind Jazz, a hungry gleam in his optics.

Jazz turned around to face the Circus Master. His look becoming icy. “No mech like _me_ would be dumb enough to get caught by you.”

“You were.”

Jazz snarled as he shot up from his seat. The next thing he knew he was on the ground gasping from the shock coursing through his frame.

“Jazz, Jazz, Jazz.” Swindle tutted as he circled around Jazz’s spasming frame. “When will you learn? Lashing out won't get you anything.”

Jazz clenched his servos, claws biting into his palms. “You like it when I’m feisty. Gets the crowd riled up and comin' back again and again.”

“Hmm. I guess that’s true.” Swindle made toward the tent’s flap. He stopped before fully exiting. “However, for that stunt no dinner for you tonight. Good evening Jazz.” And with that, the mech turned and left.

Jazz grabbed the nearest object and threw it in Swindle’s direction. “Frag you mech,” he hissed.

He hated this life. He had been young and dumb when he had met Swindle. At the time, he didn’t know who or what the mech was, and when they met Jazz had frustrated and angry with his creators. Swindle had read him like an unlocked datapad and had offered him freedom.

It had been okay for the first few orns. The work had been hard but Jazz was nothing if not determined to earn his place. But then the con-man of a mech learned what Jazz was.

That’s when his decade-long imprisonment at Swindle’s Circus of Peculiarities and Oddities started.

Pushing himself up, Jazz righted the stool he had been sitting on and collapsed onto the seat. He wanted to get away and while he might’ve been treated better than some of the other acts, he was still a prisoner.

“That wasn’t very nice of him.”

Jazz whirled around. “You!” He pointed at the same mech who had been mech-handled away from his stage earlier in the orn. “How did-? What are you doin’ here? They’ll kill ya if they find ya.”

The mech puffed out his armor and spread his wings. “I’d like to see them try.” His optics roved over Jazz’s frame. “He hurt you.”

Jazz glanced at his frame. Huh. He did have a small dent. “This?” Jazz pointed at the small mark on his frame. “This is nothin’ compared to what they’ll do to ya. Mech, ya don’t know what they’re like. They’re bad mechs.”

The black and white mech's posture got more aggressive. “Is that how they’re keeping you here? By threatening you? Hurting you?”

“Mech.” Jazz stood, his servos raised in a calming gesture. “Thanks for carin’ an’ all but I don’t even know ya.”

The other mech deflated. “My apologies. My designation is Prowl.” The now named mech bowed his head. “When I saw you earlier today, it made my energon boil.”

Jazz felt his spark sink. Swindle had been right. “You _are_ like me, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Ya gotta go. If Swindle catches ya, he’ll chain ya like he chained me.” And that was something Jazz would never let happen again. “Go.”

“No,” was Prowl’s simple response. “Not without you. Our kind are not made to be chained to a circus.”

Jazz shook his helm. “There’s a reason I haven’t left on my own. I _can’t_.”

The other’s field was heavy with emotions Jazz didn’t want to identify. He turned his back, exposing the long scars usually hidden by his costume. “Swindle took a lot from me. It wasn’t just my freedom.”

A warm hand landed on his shoulder, silently asking for permission. Jazz gave a small nod of his head before the other’s hand drifted down his back to trace over the scars. “How?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. They drugged me.” He stepped away from the other's touch. The scars still hurt. “Please, Prowl. Leave. Don’t let them do to you, what they did to me.”

“I won’t abandon you." Prowl stepped up behind him and wrapped him warm arms and wings. "You are worth saving.”

And Jazz broke.

He’d been wanting someone to save him since he woke up without his wings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragonformers! Woo! I've been wanting to write a dragonformers story and today seemed like the perfect day. :)
> 
> This is my second update today (and third in the last 24 hours!), so if you haven't checked it out either of those chapters yet--go! They update two of the series I've been working on for AU August. :)
> 
> Now continued in [Chapter 27: Mythology](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25681516/chapters/63925138)!


	22. Disney

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Formal, polished and didn’t even crack a smile at their guide’s cheesy jokes. Nothing at all like the tourists. Which meant Jazz couldn’t help but be intrigued. He liked mysteries and this mech, well, he was a mystery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Beware of hitch-hiking ghosts, beware! And mentions of death, that's it.

“It’s rumored there are 999 happy haunts here, at the Haunted Mansion, but legend says, there’s room for one more.” Their tour guide held out his arm, gesturing them to continue on to the next room. “Any volunteers?”

Jazz was absolutely delighted. The tour of Blackstone Estate was everything he’d wanted it to be and more. A little bit historical and a whole lot of creepy.

“Keep alive, mechs, and please make your way to the dead center of the room.”

Jazz followed the crowd into what had to have been a formal parlor to host guests. And while the decor was just as opulent as the other rooms in the massive estate, Jazz couldn’t help but glance at the only Praxian in their tour group.

Out of every mech in the group, he stood out like a rusted nail.

Formal, polished and didn’t even crack a smile at their guide’s cheesy jokes. Nothing at all like the tourists. Which meant Jazz couldn’t help but be intrigued. He liked mysteries and this mech, well, he was a mystery.

“I can’t help but think you’ve found me more interesting than the tour.”

Jazz yelped and turned around to see the Praxian standing behind him. “Primus mech, y’almost scared me t’ death.” The other had been on the other side of the room a a klik ago. Jazz hadn’t even heard the mech scuff a pede against the floor. Creepy.

“My apologies.” Jazz felt heat creep up in his cheeks when the mech actually bowed with his apology. “That wasn’t my intention. I just couldn’t help but notice you kept looking back at me,” he murmured to not interrupt the tour guide’s speech. “Have you not enjoyed the tour?”

“Nah, mech. It’s been great. I’ve been savin’ for ages to come visit this place.”

“Oh?” The mech asked.

He didn't owe this mech an explanation. An apology for getting caught staring, but definitely not an explanation. And really, he didn’t know this mech and after today, would probably never see him again.

And yet...

“Yeah, always been interested in the history. What with the former Lord of the house mysteriously dyin’ one dark cycle.” Jazz continued.

“That’s one theory of what happened.” The mech responded, his tone light, causing Jazz to frown and actually face the mech.

“That’s not what happened?”

But before the mech could respond their tour guide cleared his through, causing Jazz to face the gray mech. “Now if you’ll follow me we’ll make our way to the final stop of our tour: the ballroom.”

Jazz turned back to the Praxian only to discover he had already started to follow the group. Grumbling about the interruption, Jazz took his companion’s lead and followed the group out the door.

The hallway leading to the ballroom was covered in beautiful paintings and tapestries depicting fierce battles interspersed with family portraits. It was all stunning. There was no denying that the Blackstone family had a long, storied past.

However, the entire line had ended suddenly with the death of the Lord of the House.

The mech had no creations. It was rumored he had a mate but there was no official record of a bonding. So, after his sudden death and the lack of heirs to take over, the house had been boarded up and sat empty for centuries. It wasn’t until a mysterious benefactor purchased the property and opened it to the public, giving mechs their first look at the Blackstone Family.

Which was why Jazz had made his way here. From the moment he had heard about the estate, he had been completely enthralled. He liked a good mystery and there was no bigger mystery than Blackstone Manor. So when he had the chance to visit, he booked his transport and hotel and had been counting down the orns to the trip.

Jazz felt his jaw drop when he stepped into the ballroom. The room was cavernous and in the center sat a long table with the place settings still in place.

“Now, it’s said that the dark cycle the Lord offlined, he had been hosting a grand celebration. There’s no record of what was being celebrated but considering what our owner found, it’s believed it could have been a bonding.” The mech continued further into the room before stopping in front of a small table draped in steelsilk. “You see the small table, yes? This is why it’s believed to have been a bonding. Back then, a newly bonded pair would sit separate from the other partygoers to allow mechs to congratulate the happy couple. Tables like this were not typically seen at other parties.”

“Fascinating, isn’t it?”

Jazz was proud he didn’t jump this time. “It is.” He agreed. But at the same time… “Sad though too, if the story is to be believed.”

“It is. But unfortunately, with life also comes death.” The Praxian swept his wings back. “And I do believe this also marks the end of our tour.”

“I would like to thank all of you for joining us here at the Blackstone Estate. If you make your way through the door there…”

Jazz turned his full attention to the Praxian. “You seem to know a lot about the history here. I know this is forward of me but would you like to grab a cube in town or somethin’? I’d love to pick your processor about it."

“I’m glad you enjoyed the tour and my company, but unfortunately, I have other affairs I need to take care and won’t be able to head into town.”

Jazz tried to hide his disappointment. “Ahh...I guess, uhh, nice talkin’ with ya then.” Jazz gave an awkward wave before making his way to the exit. 

“Did you enjoy the tour?” The gray guide asked as Jazz approached the exit.

Jazz flashed him a wide smile.“Yeah mech, it was great. It was my first time here and I learned a lot I didn’t know about this place’s history.”

“Ahh, that’s good. I kept seeing you talking on your comm. and I thought you were either bored or had been here before. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

Jazz froze. “I wasn’t on my comm. I was talking to a mech, a Praxian. He’s over there-“ Jazz turned around to point to where he left the Praxian but the room was empty. The mech was no longer in the room. _Huh, weird._

“There were no Praxians on the tour today. Are you sure you saw a Praxian?” When Jazz nodded, the tour guide pulled a data pad out of his subspace. He fiddled with the device before turning it around, a photo taking up its entire screen. “Is this who you were talking with?”

“Yes! That’s him. Who is he?” Jazz exclaimed. Good, he wasn't imagining things.

“That’s Lord Prowl of the Blackstone Estate.”

Jazz felt his spark begin to stutter. Oh no.

"This is...or _was_ his home. He's the mech who died here centuries ago. If you _did_ see him...mech, that was a ghost!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haunted Mansion is probably one of my favorite classic rides at Disney. So when I saw a Disney prompt at first I was absolutely baffled on what I could write. I mean...I know I did the Gargoyles thing earlier but I wanted to do something different. So I present a Haunted Mansion/Transformers AU! ^^
> 
> And OMG. This was fun to write. I started it yesterday but fell asleep while writing. So it took a little longer than I wanted it to. 
> 
> I hope you guys like it as much as I did writing it!


	23. Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this place time didn’t exist. Or at least, it didn’t exist the way Prowl remembered it. He knew time was passing but was it orns or millenia?

In this place time didn’t exist. Or at least, it didn’t exist the way Prowl remembered it. He knew time was passing but was it orns or millenia? But, he found out that the lack of understanding didn’t bother him.

He knew in another life it would have. He knew it was there but if he focused too much on the thought it would fade away. Trying to follow those thoughts was like trying grasp smoke or light.

But that was okay. He was happy.

Actually, no he wasn’t happy.

He was…okay. Life would be better if something, no _someone_ , was here with him.

But he couldn’t remember who.

And that bothered him. 

And then he felt the confusion began to fade like so many other thoughts, but he viciously held onto it.

He didn't want to forget. He couldn't forget. He had to know _who_ was missing.

Confusion began to settle in and overwhelm him, and it made his entire being hurt. Prowl felt like he was drowning.

Until—

A soothing presence brushed up against him and surrounded him with love and warmth. He couldn’t see it but he began to relax as it smoothed over the broken pieces of his soul that caused the pain, the hurt and the confusion. He gasped in pain. It hurt so much. 

He wanted…

He needed…

 _Shhh, my child_.

The voice was around him and inside of him all at once and it caused him to freeze. He pushed out trying to identify it but was only met with warmth and the sense of _Other_.

Prowl let himself relax into the warmth and the absolute love around him. But while it was warm and comforting and took away the sharp sting of his pain.

It wasn't what he truly wanted.

 _Soon my child_.

Prowl believed the voice. He believed, with his entire being, that the voice wouldn't lie to him.

But more time passed.

And while the voice continued to tell him _soon_ , Prowl began to think that soon wouldn’t be _soon_ enough. The world around him was fading and Prowl found that as time passed he cared a little less. If only he knew what was missing, maybe then…

 _Prowl_.

A bright, green light danced around him, and Prowl felt his entire focus zero in on it. And when it stopped, so close but so far in front of him, he understood.

His own blue light reached out to its other half and for the first time since coming here, he was whole. And he understood. 

_Jazz_.

The green light lit up like a supernova before zooming into and around him. 

And their sparks danced for eternity, together like they were always meant to be, with Primus as their witness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Prowl and Jazz danced with each other for eternity in the Well. :)
> 
> I had originally planned for this to be the final chapter of my Royalty AU but I liked the emotional punch this one packed a little bit more. It's sad but I feel like it ends on a positive note.
> 
> Let me know what you think. ~~And I'll try to have the next chapter up tonight.~~ The next chapter is up! :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	24. Cursed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Witch, Sorcerer, Cursed One. I’ve been called many things but never a...‘fraggin’ glitch’.” Jazz bristled when the black and white mech laughed.

Jazz crept along the outer wall of small, decrepit home in the middle of nowhere. The mech who had hired him had sent him out here to get a rare stone from inside the house. It had seemed easy enough when he agreed to the job, but when he got to the small village he was planning to use as a base of operation, the mechs there took one look at him, murmured a small prayer to Primus and left him alone.

Definitely up-there on the weird scale.

But Jazz was a professional at getting what mechs wanted-no questions asked-weird circumstances included. But the reaction from the locals had put him on edge. If these mechs could tell he was an outsider by just looking at him then it would make the job that much more difficult. What was supposed to be a quick in-and-out job was turning into something a lot more complicated. So, not wanting to go into things blind, he found someone to answer his questions.

And he found out, he wasn’t the first outsider to come here looking for this stone. And according to the oh-so-helpful overcharged mech he’d cornered, wouldn’t be the last either.

But Jazz was nothing if not determined, and he now felt like he had something to prove. He didn’t call himself the best for nothing. He was the best, and he wouldn't damage his reputation over a slaggin' gem.

Coming to the door, Jazz slipped out a small lockpick, happy he didn’t have to deal with cameras or shimmying his way through too small vents. While being out in the open had its own set of dangers—he wasn't worried.

He grinned when the lock clicked open. Easy as a slice of oil cake.

Slipping his lockpick back in his subspace, he waited a breem to make sure no one came to the door to investigate the noise. Satisfied, when he heard nothing, he stood to his full height and slowly opened the door.

The inside of the small cabin was nothing like the exterior. Where the outside had been rusted and banged up the inside was immaculate. He stepped out of the doorway and softly closed the door before taking a moment to glance around. It hadn't been what he was expecting, but then nothing on this job had been. Luckily, it only took one sweep of the room to locate the stone he had been sent to retrieve. It was sitting out in the open on a small dais. Taking a deep breathe, he exhaled slowly before slinking along the wall to the stone.

He stopped when he stood right in front of it and stared; it was certainly breathtaking. How many mechs had tried and failed to get this stone? Shaking off the unease gripping his spark, he grabbed the black gem. He let out a sigh of relief when nothing happened. With the way the mech in town had been talking he had nearly convinced himself the thing was cursed.

He held it up to the light. What was so special about it anyway?

“No mech has ever gotten that close to my stone before.”

Jazz dropped his arm and slipped the stone into the pouch on his hip. It wasn’t the first time he’d been caught in the middle of the job. “I’m the best; nothin' can stop me. What’s yours is mine an’ all that slag,” Jazz replied before turning around to look at the other mech and froze. “Fraggin’ glitch!”

“Witch, Sorcerer, Cursed One. I’ve been called many things but never a...‘fraggin’ glitch’.” Jazz bristled when the black and white mech laughed. It lasted for only a few moments before the same serious expression washed over his face. “That stone is not yours to take. Give it back to me.”

Jazz slipped a vibroblade out of his subspace. “Witch or not, it ain’t yours anymore mech.”

Rather than attack him, the black and white witch hummed before crossing the room to a pot boiling on a small heater. Jazz followed his movements, blade raised. “Please, take a seat.” He motioned with one wing to a small table.

“So ya can kill me or curse me or somethin’?”

“No, so we can discuss the arrangement of my hiring you,” he replied.

Jazz reset his visor. “What?”

“That’s what you are, are you not? A hired thief willing to take on any job as long as the pay is good?” He asked.

Jazz found himself nodding. “Yeah, but I’m stealin’ somethin’ from ya.”

“Exactly. I’d like for you to steal what you just stole from me, from the mech who hired you.”

He dropped his arm holding his blade.. “You want me to steal this stone back for you? Even though I have it right here, right now.” Jazz waved to the pouch on his person. 

“Yes.” The winged mech turned back to him. “Can you do it?”

“That’s fragged up mech. What is the stone anyway?” Jazz asked.

“Do you agree to my terms? Will you retrieve my stone back for me?” The black and white mech pressed.

Jazz gave the black and white witch a look. This night was turning out to be anything but normal, and Jazz would never admit it to any mech, but he was intrigued. He’d certainly never been asked to steal back what he was stealing. “Gonna cost ya.”

“Credits are not an issue.” The black and white mech held out his hand. “If we are in agreement, let’s seal our deal.”

Hesitating for only a moment, Jazz grasped the other mech’s hand. He felt the magic race up his arm. “What the frag did ya do?”

“A guarantee.” He replied, breaking his grip. “Now, please, sit. My dinner was nearly ready before you barged in. I need to make sure you’re fueled up before you head out. Can't have you collapsing before you can return my stone to me.”

“Wait a klik mech, what did you do?”

“Do not worry Jazz. As long as you keep to your promise of returning my stone, no harm will come to you.”

“Ya cursed me?!” He exclaimed.

“Of course not. Now please, take a seat. Dinner is ready.” He responded. The witch turned back toward the stove and hefted the large pot onto the small table.

“I don’t even know your name mech!”

“You can call me Prowl.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Jazz. He never expected to get cursed when he took on this job. He's lucky he's so sneaky...if he wasn't, Prowl would've just killed him for trying to take his precious stone.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this installment. We're getting so close to the end!


	25. Pen Pals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl gets an odd request from a commander at another base. Everything goes downhill from there.
> 
> Or does it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware the emails! ;)

To: Delta Base Commander, Jazz  
From: Beta Base Commander, Prowl

CONFIDENTIAL

Subject: RE: Lead Acquisition

Delta Commander:

Your request for 10 tons of lead has come across my desk. I ask that you please specify the reason for your request. Until I receive said explanation, Alpha and Beta base will not be able to approve of your request.

Signed,

Prowl

Beta Base Commander  
Tactical Lead

###

To: Beta Base Commander, Prowl  
From: Delta Base Commander, Jazz  
CC: Alpha Base, Special Operations Commander, xxxxx

CONFIDENTIAL

Subject: RE: RE: Lead Acquisition

Heya mech,

No worries about that lead. I was able to procure it from another source. Heh. In fact, I have 6 extra tons I’d like transferred to Alpha Base, as well as one ton of copper. I’ll need help arranging transport.

Also, if you see another requisition request for Wheeljack’s “special project” please approve. The purpose of said project is TOP SECRET and cannot be discussed on this channel.

Thanks mech!

Jazz

Delta Base Commander  
Special Operations Lietenant

###

To: Delta Base Commander, Jazz  
From: Beta Base Commander, Prowl  
CC: Alpha Base, Science Division, Wheeljack

TOP SECRET

Subject: Communication Protocol

Delta Commander:

First and foremost, the next time you want to send 6 tons of lead to Alpha Base make sure it is **properly** stored. We had to treat your transport for lead poisoning. The poor mech is still recovering. Ratchet is not pleased. He asked that this be added to your file. I told him I'd give you a warning. So don't let this happen again or else it _will_ go in your permanent file.

Commander, I might also remind you that any request from Wheeljack’s lab must be filed through the proper channels. Sending the request via an unsecured datapad is not the correct way. Please find attached: the proper way to request items from Wheeljack and a reminder about the proper handling of lead.

I know you are on a tight deadline for getting what you need so I have filed the proper documents to get what you need. **I will not do this again**.

Do not make me regret this Jazz. 

Signed,

Prowl

Beta Base Commander  
Tactical Lead

Attachments: THE DANGERS OF LEAD.doc; WHEELJACK PROTOCOLS.doc

###

To: Alpha Base, Tactical Head, General Prowl  
From: Delta Base Commander, Jazz

UNCLASSIFIED

Subject: Congrats mech!!!!

Heya Prowler,

Heard about your promotion…congrats mech! I knew you had it in you! And to think that super special mission you helped me out on is the reason you got your big promotions. Crazy, isn't it? ;)

I’m sure you’ve heard as well but they’re moving me to replace you at Beta Base! Looks like I’m following in your pedesteps mech! 

Also, a little bitty mech told me ya liked Vosian highgrade. Hopefully the bottle I sent with this note made it to you. Save a cube for me Prowl, so we can cheers to your promotion together. Who knows, maybe I’ll get promoted up there with you too! And then we can raise a glass to both of us.

All the best,

Jazz

Delta Base Commander  
Special Operations Lietenant

###

To: Beta Base Commander, Jazz  
From: Alpa Base, Tactical Head, Prowl

CONFIDENTIAL

Subject: RE: Congrats mech!!!!

Jazz,

While I appreciate your congratulatory message about my promotion, please don't use ';)' in said messages. All messages sent between bases are archived and the language is unbecoming of an up-and-coming officer. Don't let something like that stop you from getting promoted.

But thank you, I was surprised by my move up to Tac Head. As you expected, what happened in Tarn really impressed High Command. I owe you my thanks. 

Also, thank you for the high-grade. I have had a cube and it remind me a lot of home. A drink this good though deserves to be imbibed with friends. I've saved a fair bit for when you make it to Alpha Base, so we can have that cube together.

I know you will get here Jazz. You're brilliant at what you do. Tarn would not have been a success without you there. I've made sure to pass that along during my initial meeting with High Command.

Hopefully I will see you soon. 

Best,

Prowl

###

To: Alpha Base, Tactical Head, General Prowl  
From: Beta Base Commander, Jazz

SENSITIVE

Prowl,

When I heard there had been an attack at Alpha Base—I could only think of you. I’m glad you’re okay. Or will be once you’re done being under Ratchet’s tender mercies. Be careful of the wrenches for me, okay?

I’m sure you’ve already heard, if not, surprise! I just got promoted to Spec. Ops Commander at Alpha Base. Apparently, the old Spec. Ops head was the main target for the attack. While I’m saddened the mech's gone, I’m happy to get shifted to Alpha Base.

Stay safe and a speedy recovery. I’ll be seeing you soon Prowler.

Jazz

###

To: Jazz  
From: Prowl

TOP SECRET

Jazz,

Thank you for your kind message. Please don’t fret. I will make a full recovery. My injuries weren’t spark-threatening, but I won't lie, they were severe. Your continued communiques while I’m on bedrest have been a nice break from the monotony. Fortunately for me, Ratchet hasn’t come at me with any wrenches. I can't say the same for the other mechs in the Medbay however.

I had been in the room the when the explosion went off. Truthfully, I don’t know why I didn’t offline that orn. While I'm sure you're curious about what happened, truthfully, I don't remember much. My short-term cache corrupted from the bomb and Ratchet and Wheeljack don't think I will be able to recover those memories. But my frame is recovering and that's what matters.

I’m glad you accepted the promotion to Special Operations here at Alpha Base. I was the one who recommended you to the Prime and Ultra Magnus. It took some convincing, but I’m glad they are taking the chance. I only had to remind then of Tarn for them to agree. 

I know I’ll be seeing you soon and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t excited. I still have that high-grade you sent me. Maybe after you get settled we can share a cube?

Your friendship has meant the world to me Jazz.

Thank you,

Prowl

###

To: Alpha Base, Second-in-Command, Prowl  
From: Alpha Base, Third-in-Command, Jazz 

TOP SECRET

Subject: RE: Room Re-Assignment

Prowler,

Prime said yes. Looks like you're stuck with me, mech! 

Love ya,

Jazz

P.S. I promise not to leave our new quarters too cluttered.  
P.P.S. Can we have a house warming party? I promise to keep it small!

###

To: Alpha Base, Second-in-Command, Jazz  
From: Alpha Base, Third-in-Command, Prowl 

TOP SECRET

Subject: RE: RE: Room Re-Assignment

Jazz,

I'm glad he approved of our request. Especially since you moved your things in before we even asked Optimus.

And before I forget.

Party request: **DENIED.**

I love you and will see you tonight.

Prowl.

###

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello time jumps! I came up with this idea a few chapters ago and was excited to finally sit down and write it. It's not something I had ever done before but what better time to try something new than a writing challenge?
> 
> Do you like, love or hate this kind of format? 
> 
> ALSO!
> 
> Can someone tell me the generally accepted way to do TF dates? I wanted to show that these notes were spread out over time but I couldn't find any solid information and didn't want to make up something that didn't make any sense. So any help would be appreciated! :)


	26. Pirate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re a pirate?” 
> 
> “I’m a pirate.” The visored mech confirmed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning: kidnapping, bad attempt at an accent, theft...and you'll just have to read to find out what happens ;)

Prowl woke up with a helmache which wasn’t unusual. What was unusual, however, was the fact that he couldn’t remember why. He remembered leaving work on-time for once and fueling when he got home. He even remembered sitting down to read and then there had been a knock on his door. But after that-absolutely nothing.

He frowned; he hadn't crashed. He knew that, but without a proper defrag he wouldn’t be able to recover the corrupted files and know why he couldn't remember the last, he checked his chronometer, seven joor. Bracing himself, Prowl finally turned on his optics and then quickly shut them back off as the light nearly blinded him.

Today was not starting out to be a good day.

“Oh good! You’re awake. Thought I mighta hit ya a lil’ too hard.”

Prowl frowned. He knew that voice. “Jazz.” He said, tone clipped, as he upped the priority to reboot his optics. “What happened?” It took another few moments for his optics to adjust and when they did, it wasn’t to what Prowl was expecting. He wasn’t home. In fact, he glanced around the room, he didn’t recognize where he was at all.

“Heh. ‘Bout that…” The mech stepped into Prowl’s view.

Prowl now knew, without a doubt, today wasn't just going to be a bad day, it was going to be a Bad Day.

Resigning himself, he looked at the other mech. “Jazz…where are we?”

“Eh heh. Yer on m’ ship.”

Yup, there was that helmache again. “You don’t own a ship.” Was Prowl’s dry response. “In fact, you live on the bad side of town in one of the most rundown apartments I’ve ever seen. Now again, I ask you: where are we?"

“Tha’s just my hidey hole ‘ere in Polyhex,” Jazz replied as he waved a hand in disagreement. “No sense payin’ for somethin’ I don’t need often y’know? Jus’ when I need a break from the sea. Don' 'appen often but it does.”

“I don't believe you. Did Blaster put you up to this? Is he here somewhere recording my reaction?”

“Prowler, that righ’ there’s what got ya ‘ere in the firs’ place. I told ya I was a pirate. Decided to show ya since ya didn’t believe me.” Jazz shrugged. “So, whatcha think?”

The whole situation was absurd, but Prowl found himself taking note of his surroundings. It definitely didn't look like any apartment he'd seen in Polyhex, but it didn't quite fit with what he would have considered a pirate’s cabin either. He slowly turned back to the mech he considered a friend. “You’re...a pirate?”

“I’m a pirate.” The visored mech confirmed. “Don’ worry though Prowler, ain’t gonna hurt ya. In fact, I want ya ta join me.”

“You want me. To be a pirate. Me. The mech who follows the rules and hasn’t ever broken a traffic law? Not even once?” Prowl felt his processor begin to stall. He always knew Jazz was a bit odd, but even though the mech had told him, on more than one occasion he was a pirate, Prowl hadn’t believed him. He figured it was some local slang for something mundane.

Apparently, the joke was on him.

Why did he always find the mechs who turned his life upside down?

“Yup.” Jazz took the two steps to sit on the bed next to the Praxian. “Prowl. Y’re not satisfied with yer life. Why not live a lil’? What’s wrong with a lil’ adventure?”

Prowl looked at the black hand on his leg. “Because I’d be a criminal.”

Jazz threw back his head and laugh. “Tha’s only if we get caught. Ain’t ever been caught Prowler. Ya’ll be safe wit’ me.”

And Prowl couldn’t believe he was seriously considering Jazz’s offer. The mech wasn’t wrong when he said that he wasn’t happy with his life. His boss didn’t appreciate him and he felt unfilled with his work. He had few friends and he never could get used to calling Polyhex home.

Would any mech actually miss him if he did decide to just up and leave?

And an even bigger question, would he regret his choice if he didn’t?

Jazz squeezed his leg and Prowl found himself turning to meet the other mech's visor. “Gimme an orn Prowler and I’ll show ya what livin’s really like.”

“I will join you. On one condition.”

The smile that broke out across Jazz's face could've lit all of Cybertron. “Anythin’ Prowler.”

“I want to be Captain. If I'm going to try this 'pirate life' I want the real deal. This will be a good opportunity to test myself.”

Jazz sputtered, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he managed to respond. “Y’can’t jus’ commandeer my ship like that mech!”

Prowl smirked. “It looks like I just did.” He stood then, fluffing his armor then stretching his arms and wings. "Now, where to First Mate?"

“Prowl!” Jazz stood as well and went to stand next to the taller mech. "Y' don't even know 'ow to sail!"

“Looks like I’m the captain now. Plus, I've always been told I'm a fast learner.” And Prowl felt a weight lift off his shoulder. Maybe a life at sea was just what he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus the most notorious, cunning and successful pirate pair to ever sail on the Rust Sea began their partnership. No one else stands a chance. 
> 
> And to think, it only took Jazz kidnapping Prowl to get started. LOL
> 
> This one was fun to write. But I can't WAIT for tomorrow. Y'all really loved the dragonformers story so much I've decided to revisit it tomorrow for the Mythical Creatures prompt. It's gonna be doozy!


	27. Mythology (Dragonformers AU Part 2 of 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t worry Jazz,” the mech responded, but not before throwing a spark-piercing glare to where Swindle had just been standing. “Everything is under control. We’re here to rescue you.”
> 
> Continuation of [Chapter 21: Circus](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25681516/chapters/63574297). AKA more Dragonformers!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: abuse, starvation as punishment, slave-trade, exotic animal trade
> 
> \---
> 
> Also, I totally got the prompt wrong. Whoops. I thought it was mythical creatures but this one is supposed to be mythology. So please excuse my bending of "mythology" and enjoy some dragons. ^^'

Jazz tried not to look at himself in the mirror as he worked on bringing his polish up to a mirror shine. He clenched his fist around the cloth. He had been a slaggin’ idiot. He had collapsed in the other mech’s arms in a moment of weakness. Bore his spark to a complete stranger.

And for what?

Pretty words? The promise of freedom?

Prowl’s whispered promise of freedom and escape had given him hope he hadn’t felt in such a long, long time. But that had been orns ago and Jazz had neither seen nor heard from the mech since.

“Slaggin’ lies more like it.” He snarled, feeling his claws bite into his palms.

He _knew_ he should’ve known better. Being here was his punishment for running away.

It was his fault he had lost his wings.

It was his fault he had lost his freedom.

He was a slave to Swindle and would be for as long as the mech thought he was worth the credits. And when he wasn't worth it anymore? Jazz shuddered. The mech was cruel and Jazz wouldn’t put it past the con-mech to sell him off to the highest bidder. He probably already had mechs lined up; Swindle certainly liked to parade him in front of the rich.

He pushed all those thoughts to the back of his processor. It was his own fault for believing a stranger. Even if the stranger was a dragon too. The show must go on, and tonight was the last show before they moved on to the next city. And if he missed his cues—he would be without energon for the entire trip to their next destination. He only needed to be taught that lesson once. Being starved to near-stasis was not something he wanted to repeat.

Jazz lifted his head up when he heard footsteps entering his tent. He grabbed another polishing cloth and quickly wiped down the smudges he’d made on his legs. “Gimme a breem. I’m almost done!” He called out.

He nearly jumped when a hand grabbed his wrist and squeezed.

“What. Did. You. Do?” Swindle nearly hissed next to his horn.

“I don’ know what you’re talkin’ bout.” He narrowed his optics, trying to break free of Swindle's hard grip.

“The frag you don’t.” Jazz hissed as Swindle increased the pressure on his wrist. “A mech just came to my tent askin’ me to _give_ ya to him.” Swindle pulled away, and threw out his arms, gesturing around the small tent. “Are you not happy with everything that I have given you? The places I’ve taken you? I’ve given you everything you wanted that day you came begging me to take you in. And this how you repay me?”

Jazz opened his mouth to respond but instead, found himself writhing and gasping on the floor as pain shot through his entire being.

He keened.

And then the pain stopped, leaving him twitching on the ground.

Swindle walked up to his prone form and looked down at him. “I think you’ve overstayed your welcome Jazz. You’re more trouble than you’re worth, but luckily, I know some very nice mechs who would pay a handsome price for a lovely thing like you. Get up.” Swindle kicked him. “You pathetic creature.”

Jazz lifted himself up on shaky arms. He refused to be treated like some piece of scrap. He winced as he pushed himself to his knees.

“Now, that’s not very nice.” A new voice sing-songed from the tent’s entrance.

Swindle turned away from Jazz to face the other mech. “Who are you and what are you doing here? You can’t be back here. This area is for performers only.” The purple mech raised a hand to his helm to activate his comm. as he stepped out of the tent.

“Ah ah ah.” The other mech interrupted again, wagging a finger back and forth. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You’ve already made him angry. Don’t push him even more.”

Jazz stumbled a little bit when he finally got his pedes under him. Taking a few steps away from the circus master, he turned to other mech too. “Who are you? And who is angry?”

“Don’t worry Jazz,” the mech responded, but not before throwing a spark-piercing glare to where Swindle had just been standing. “Everything is under control. We’re here to rescue you.”

“I don’t need rescuing.” Who did this mech this he was? “I can take care of myself.”

“Prowl thought you might say that, and he wanted me to tell you that you aren’t alone anymore. We’re here to help you fight your battles. Kay?”

Jazz stared at the gray mech in front of him. “Prowl?” Had the other…? He couldn’t keep the hope from blooming in his field. “He kept his promise? He's here?”

The other mech nodded in response. “He also wanted you to know he’s sorry for taking so long.”

Jazz let out a cry when the gray mech was pulled away from him and thrown to the floor. Apparently, Swindle hadn’t listened to the other and called Brawl of all mechs for backup.

Jazz was surprised when rather than cry out or pick himself off the floor to fight, the gray mech laughed.

“You’ve really done it now mechs. Your funeral I guess. Oh yeah, can you say ‘hi’ to Primus for me? Prowl doesn’t like it when you hurt what he considers his.”

In the not-too-far distance, a spark-stopping, frame-shattering roar was heard before the sky lit up in orange and red.

And for the first time in a decade, Jazz truly believed he had found his freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! A bit of cliffhanger at the end. Why? Well I really like this idea so much I'm going to break it off into it's own separate piece. I was getting to almost 3k words before I told myself I needed to stop. So I took just about the first 1k and used it here. You know how ideas sometimes snowball? Well that's what happened here and I'm not even mad about it.
> 
> So yay...more Dragonformers!
> 
> So look for this to continue after I finish up AU August. :)


End file.
